Koumbaros and Koufettas
by notesofwimsey
Summary: A year in the life of the Crime Lab: weddings, mysteries, cases and babies, but maybe not who you think! Warning for language, graphic and adult scenes. StellaFlack, DL.
1. Chapter 1: Weddings Do That to Me

_A/N Thanks to all the reviewers of my two previous stories – "Messed Up" and "Another Fine Mess"- especially to Chocobetty for her questions, which alway make me think about what I am doing. _

_This story is Stella/Flack centred, but with still lots of Danny/Lindsay, and continues on from the Messer wedding. _

_The definition of a comedy is a story which ends with a wedding, while a tragedy is the same story ending in a funeral. I prefer comedies._

_Off-canon details of ages, backgrounds etc. are true for the actors who portray the characters, which belong to CBS, the producers, writers, and creators of CSI:NY._

_Like everyone else, I thrive on reviews. Thanks for leaving a comment.

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_**Koumbaros and Koufettas**_

Chapter 1

"It was magic, wasn't it?" Stella Bonasera sighed, a little drunk and a lot exhausted, burrowing her head into Don Flack's shoulder as they walked through the dark New York streets to their apartment.

It had been a pretty intense three months since Lindsay Monroe and Danny Messer had finally admitted their feelings, fallen into bed, and gotten engaged, all in a twenty-four hour period.

It was the same night Don had asked Stella to move in with him. It had seemed too quick; they had only been seeing each other for a month. But she had known when she looked in his eyes that it was the right thing to do. Now she thought, "Perhaps when you live with death all the time, you just don't want to take things slow. When every day could be the last ... " she shivered and moved even closer to Don. It was true for everyone, she knew that: no one knew whether they would live or die that day. But for the people she worked with, death was a constant and often intrusive companion.

Don had moved into the apartment he had helped her move into just months before. After Frankie's attack and death, she had not been able to go back to her old apartment. Don had been the one who helped her look, checked out the security and the neighbourhood of each place she had thought a possibility, and then had helped her move in, dragooning all their friends to help out as well. In many ways, it had been as much his apartment as hers from the beginning.

Stella hadn't been exactly surprised when everyone showed up again to help Don move in, but she had been overwhelmed at how happy they all seemed to be about the situation. She had thought, perhaps, that there would be questions about their being together, but Danny and Sheldon had cheerfully muscled furniture around, Mac had moved dozens of boxes, and even Peyton had helped Lindsay clean out Don's bathroom and kitchen, claiming she had all kinds of tricks from the morgue to help her do it more efficiently. Moving had never seemed so easy before.

Even before that was over, Stella began helping Lindsay plan the wedding, standing in for all the female relatives Lindsay didn't have: mother, sister, maid of honour all rolled into one. They had met in the staffroom during shift breaks, eking out a few moments between dumpster-diving and analysing assorted bodily fluids to argue about flowers, colour schemes, and venues.

Stella smiled at the memory: Lindsay had been so determined to keep everything small and understated, while Stella, with her Greek background, had rather grander notions. Compromise had sometimes been hard won. In the end, Lindsay got the simplicity she wanted, while Stella got just enough drama to feel it had all been worth it.

"If you wanted small and tacky, you know, you and Danny could always hop a shuttle to Vegas and do it up in gold lame and Elvis impersonators!" Stella had huffed at one point.

Lindsay had nearly cried with laughter, imagining Danny dressed up as Elvis. When she jokingly said, "That sounds sort of promising... " Stella threatened to go for her throat.

Still, it had all been worth it for that moment when Danny had looked Lindsay in the eyes and promised "to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, until death do us part." Everyone in the room was in tears at that point, including the bride and groom. Danny had come through so much, and everything that happened - his brother's near-fatal beating, Aiden's death, the traumas nearly every member of the team had suffered over the past year - had only made him stronger and more sure of himself and of his feelings for Lindsay. No one had ever expected Danny to be the first of the group married, least of all Danny himself.

And Lindsay. Stella sighed happily: she had been everything a bride should be. She had walked down the aisle on Mac Taylor's arm, kissing him on the cheek when they stopped in front of the priest and Danny reached for her hand. Her radiant smile had rivaled the sun pouring in through the stained glass windows. The simple gown Stella had convinced her to buy - a plain linen sheath with a low back in soft white covered with a lace jacket - had fallen to just above her ankles: something new. Stella had loaned her a lace fingertip veil which draped over her head, off her face - the only thing Stella had from her mother's family: something borrowed. It matched the pearls Lindsay wore which had been her grandmother's: something old. For something blue, she carried a small bouquet of hydrangea and columbine, colours which were echoed throughout the church.

"You okay?" Don asked her quietly. She had hardly spoken since they left the reception at Murphy's, which was unusual enough for his Stella that he felt the need to check.

"Yeah, just thinking," she smiled up at him mistily.

"You can't possibly cry anymore, Stel," he said teasingly. "I thought you were going to float away at one point."

"Weddings do that to me," she said dreamily, hardly thinking about what she was saying. "Such a beautiful promise to make, isn't it?"

Don looked down at her. He had a promise of his own to keep, and this seemed as good a time as any.

"Come here a minute," he walked over to a bench and sat down, inviting her to join him.

She sat close to him, her body suddenly tense. She knew that Don and Danny had been hatching something all week, and she was pretty sure she knew what it was. She was a trained investigator, after all, and neither man was particularly subtle.

Don cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. When he had asked Stella to move in with him (although in the end, he had moved in with her) he had done it on the spur of the moment. This was a lot harder.

"Stella, you know I love you, right?"

She turned to face him. "Yes," she answered simply.

"I love living with you. I love waking up in the morning and having you in my arms. I love going to sleep at night knowing that you are beside me. I don't ever want to lose that, you know?"

Yes, she knew. And it scared her nearly to death.

He could see that fear in her eyes, but he had promised Danny that he wouldn't chicken out this time. He'd had the ring for nearly two weeks, but there just had never seemed a good time to have this conversation. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and took Stella's hand in his.

"I want more, Stella." He grinned a little. "I always seem to want more around you. I want to marry you, to make that promise to have and hold 'til death do us part. I want to have children with you, and grow old with you, and ... " his voice died off as Stella turned her head away.

"Don't turn away from me, Stel. Turn me down if you have to, but at least tell me what's going on in your head. Don't just shut me down."

She looked down at her hand, at the ring he had placed on her finger while he was talking. It fit perfectly, a beautiful solitaire cut emerald which matched her eyes. She looked up at him and smiled a little tremulously. "It's beautiful, Don."

"So are you," he said, not sure whether to be relieved or worried.

"And I do love you."

"But...?"

"I don't need to be married to prove I love you. I don't need the ceremony and the priest and the piece of paper to tell everyone that we love each other. Isn't it enough just to be together?"

Don was shaking his head even before she'd finished. He and Danny had practiced this part (with a lot of help from Lindsay). "No," he said firmly.

"No? Why not? What does all that mean, anyway?" She was beginning to get angry.

Don could feel her anger simmering, but he would not be dissuaded. "It means a lot. I don't want to tell people you're my girlfriend, or partner, or significant other. I want you to be my wife, the mother of my children."

He felt her stiffen up again, but he kept trying, "It means everything, Stella. If it didn't, why did you spend three months making sure Lindsay and Danny had everything they could possibly want for this one special day? Why did you just spend five hours crying your eyes out?"

Stella choked on a laughing sob. "Well, you got me there." She turned away from him and wiped her eyes.

He moved off the bench and crouched down in front of her. "I'm not on my knees yet, Stella, but if that's what it takes ... "

"Don't," she said automatically. "You'll ruin your new suit."

This time he laughed, "As if I care." He took both her hands in his and leaned forward. "Make an honest man of me, Stella Bonasera. Marry me."

She bent towards him and rested her forehead on his with a sigh. "I love you, Don. But marriage - kids - it's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

She looked him deep in the eyes and said firmly, "I'm too old for you."


	2. Chapter 2: Second Best

_**Koumbaros and Koufettas**_

Chapter 2

Don rocked back on his heels at that. "What do you mean, you're too old to marry me?"

His voice had gone flat; she recognized the tone as one he used in interrogations when he didn't believe the suspect and was letting him know it. She didn't like the feeling that it was being directed at her, but for his own sake, she couldn't let this go on without dealing with this.

"Do you know how old I am, Don?" she asked.

"Even I know better than to answer something like that, Stella. My mother and all my sisters still didn't manage to teach me much about women, but that's one I usually get right." She didn't even smile, which Don had to take as a bad sign. He sighed and admitted, "I've never thought about it."

Seriously, she went on, "I was at your 29th birthday party, remember? And I am assuming that it actually WAS your 29th birthday, unlike my last several birthdays." She waited until Don nodded. He was the baby of the group by several years, which was not a position he was particularly proud of. It had been a surprise party, and he had been razzed for weeks by all the techs and even some rookies who were older than him.

"Well, my next birthday, which is coming up soon, will be the big 4 - 0, Don." She waited for his reaction, and was a bit surprised when he simply pursed his lips and whistled.

"Hot damn; you make 40 look easy."

There was little doubt that he was sincere, and not nearly shocked enough at what she had said, so she tried again.

"Optimal age for childbirth is 20 to 30, Don. It's a little late for talking white dresses and babies with me." She tried, really she did, to keep any hint of bitterness out of her voice. Why did she have to meet someone now, want all this now, when she was reaching the end of her "sell-by date" as one magazine story had put it? She had put all that time into a career, dating hopeless men, and waiting for Mac to respond to her as more than a friend.

Of course, if anything had gone differently, she wouldn't be with Don now. Stella shook her head; she couldn't think about that now. She had to make Don face what she was saying. It was for his own good.

Don stood up and walked a few paces away, then came back and sat down on the bench beside her again, leaning forward with his hands grasped tightly together between his knees. "So, let me get this straight," his voice was low and deadly cold. "You'll sleep with me, and live with me, and share your life with me, until I want children. Then you'll ... what? Find me some nice young woman to breed with and step out of the way? Do you have a plan for that? I can get lists from my aunties, if you like."

Stella froze at the anger building in his voice. "Don't, Don, please."

He jumped to his feet again and began to pace, "No way, Stella. I cannot believe you could think like that, much less say it to me. Do you have any idea what that makes me? What kind of asshole thinks like that? Do you really think that I could do that to you?" He turned back to her so fast she flinched.

Don saw her instinctive move away from him and stopped to take a deep breath. He had to get a hold of his anger before he frightened her any more. He was constantly aware that she had been severely traumatized by the attack that had ended in her killing her abuser. He never wanted her to feel a moment's concern with him.

He walked down the path a few steps and stood with his back to her, struggling to control himself. It seemed to take a long time; he now understood the meaning of "seeing red". When he had calmed down a little, he came back and sat down beside her again. Taking her left hand in both of his, he stared down at his ring which she had been twisting around her finger, but was, he was glad to see, still wearing.

"Stella, are Danny and Lindsay going to have children?" He tried to keep his voice quiet and reasonable, even though he felt like kicking a hole through a wall.

"Lindsay wants to. I don't know about Danny." Stella was a little confused by the change of topic, not to mention the change in Don's behaviour, although she appreciated his attempt to hold onto his impressive temper.

Don thought back to a day a few weeks ago when Danny and he had been walking past a playground, and recalled the brief look of longing he had surprised in his friend's eyes when watching the children playing. He was pretty sure that Danny wanted children about as much as he wanted to keep breathing.

"Okay, so they want them. Are they going to have them?" His voice was quietly insistent.

"Sure, why not? Lindsay's only 34 or so; she has lots of time left." Stella kept her voice carefully neutral. She understood where Don was going with this; she wasn't totally ignorant, although he was making her feel stupid.

"Unless any one of a thousand things gets in the way. And even if they do get pregnant, things can go wrong. You know that, Stella. You know there are no guarantees." His voice was rising a little again, so he took another breath to rein himself in. Gently, he raised her head with one hand on her chin until she was looking him in the eyes.

"Stella, I want _you._ I want to marry you and spend my life with you. I'd love to have children - if you do - if that happens. They're not a deal-breaker. How could they be? I want more than just us living together until one of us moves on. That feels like second best to me. I don't want to be your second best." He looked at her a moment, then down at his feet.

She was startled to see a sheen of tears in his eyes. How had this conversation moved from her being too old for him to him being not good enough for her? She raised a hand to his cheek and forced him to look at her. "You are such an idiot," she said quietly; then she leaned forward and kissed him, her hands framing his face.

With a sigh, Don relaxed into her arms, deepening the kiss, and silently, fervently, blessed Lindsay for her words of advice. "Whatever you do, Don, don't react when she tells you she's nearly 40, and don't let her talk you out of it."

"Always the one thinking ahead, Linds," he thought as he pulled away slowly. He held Stella's left hand in both of his and kissed the palm, then closed her fingers tightly, holding his ring in place, and looked into her eyes again.

"Marry me."


	3. Chapter 3: Pearls Symbolize Tears

_Disclaimers: All characters belong to CBS and the creators of CSI:NY. The plots are mine._

Chapter 3: Pearls Symbolize Tears

It was nearly a week before anyone saw the ring. As Lindsay had before her, Stella wore the ring on a chain at work - rings were not a good idea in a lab, where they could catch on things or get damaged. Besides, she wasn't quite ready to share it with all the gossip-mongers in the lab, especially the techs who would have it weighed and appraised and judged within minutes of seeing it.

A few months ago, Lindsay had worn her pearl engagement ring on her left hand for the first time when the team had gone out for a drink after work. It had belonged to Danny's grandmother and was as precious to her as if it had been one of the 3-carat diamonds from the Holly Golightly case.

By then, the pools about when they would sleep together had all been closed. Mac, of course, had won, so Danny thought it was time to get the rumours flowing again. Hawkes, perhaps surprisingly, had won the engagement pool; when asked how he had known they were already engaged, he had just raised an eyebrow and looked mysterious. He was pretty sure that if Danny knew he had caught a glimpse of the ring slipped down between Lindsay's breasts when she bent over at the lab, he would be nothing but a smear on the pub floor.

To her disgust, Stella had been voted out of the pools long ago; the men figured she must have an inside track on all information. All her protests to the contrary had been ignored; Mac had just laughed at her when she threatened to charge the lab with sexual discrimination.

"It's just wrong, Mac. I don't know any more than the rest of you," Stella had pouted.

"Sorry, Stella. The lab rats voted, and I can't go against the majority, can I? This is America!" Mac's eyes were crinkled with suppressed laughter, but his voice didn't even waver.

That night at the pub, the team had toasted the couple when a beaming Danny had announced their wedding date. After a few jokes and some friendly teasing, the men quickly returned to discussing the game on the large screen TV, although Hawkes called Danny "Benedick, the married man" for the rest of the night (a joke he had to explain so many times he finally gave up in disgust.)

On the other hand, Stella had immediately asked for the whole story, which Lindsay had told her quietly under cover of the general conversation. "Pearls symbolize tears, Lindsay," Stella had told her without thinking, while she admired the delicate ring.

"I know. Well, life brings both tears and laughter, and Danny and I will deal with whatever life brings." Lindsay had said quickly, seeing the look of horror in Danny's eyes when he overheard Stella's comment. She could have killed Stella; it took her weeks afterwards to convince Danny that she didn't want him to replace her ring with a conventional diamond one.

Stella was in the locker room changing for work when Lindsay came on shift, her first since the wedding.

"Linds!" Stella squealed, giving her a quick hug. "How was the honeymoon?"

"A week long cruise with nothing to do but eat and sit in the sun and spend every waking moment with Danny?" Lindsay laughed, looking tanned and relaxed and happier than Stella had ever seen her. "It was magic when he wasn't driving me nuts. Sitting in a deck chair suited Danny for all of five minutes. At one point I swear he was testing the pool water and threatening to process the water filter! Then I showed him how to rock climb on the wall, and he immediately started a ship-wide competition. How was your week?"

She glanced at Stella, who had been changing out of her blouse when Lindsay walked in. Lindsay stared, then slowly reached out and hooked a finger through the gold chain around Stella's neck. Her eyes went wide. "Oh my GOD!"

Stella's eyes filled with tears as Lindsay's arms went around her and she was squeezed within an inch of her life. "Lindsay ... Lindsay … can't breath here." But when Lindsay's arms relaxed a little, Stella's tightened around her in turn for a moment before she stepped away and pulled a t-shirt over her head.

"When?" Lindsay began the 'trading info' game they had started months ago after Danny's spectacular flight through the air to catch a stupid kid who was running over the roof tops after trying to rob a bar full of off-duty cops.

"He asked me the night of the wedding. Did you know?"

"No." If there was one thing Lindsay had learned from Danny (aside from various positions and locations for sex she would never have thought of on her own) it was how to lie. "Where?"

"In the park, on our way home. Have you guys started talking about kids?"

"Talking; not trying. What did he say?"

"I turned him down." Stella deliberately dropped the ball on the game.

Lindsay turned to look at her calmly. "You didn't tell him you are too old for him, did you?"

Stella flushed. "It's true."

"Oh, Stella."

"He wants kids, Lindsay. I'm nearly 40. Do you know the chances of my having a healthy baby?"

"No, and neither do you."

"The statistics say two-thirds of women over 40 have fertility problems; one in a hundred has a baby with Down's Syndrome." Stella bit her lip, hating to admit she had been researching.

Lindsay grabbed her hands and made Stella look her in the eye. "Stats are nothing, Stella. You know better than that. You are healthy and in great shape, and if you want to have a dozen babies, they will all be beautiful and so lucky to have you and Don as parents."

Stella couldn't help it; she burst into tears again. Lindsay led her over to a bench and sat down beside her, one arm around her, murmuring quiet words of comfort.

"He was so angry with me," Stella said nearly under her breath.

Lindsay froze. "Angry? Don? Why was he angry?" She said carefully.

"He asked what kind of man could not want to marry a woman he loved just because she might not be able to have babies? I nearly asked him to think about that again - how many battered women do we process in a month, Linds? But he was so hurt that I could think that of him. And I didn't, not really, Lindsay," Stella's hand grasped Lindsay's tightly. "I just thought - it's not fair for him to never have the chance to be a father just 'cause he thinks he's in love ... "

Lindsay gave Stella a shake, and asked in a horrified voice, "You didn't tell him he just thought he was in love, did you? Stella! How could you?"

Stella closed her eyes, and admitted, "I don't think I did. He was angry enough."

"What did he do?"

"Walked away, for a moment, then he stopped and I could see him trying to control his temper. You know Don, Linds," Stella looked at her for confirmation, and was relieved by Lindsay's thoughtful nod. "Usually he just blows. I was scared; I admit it. I thought I'd pushed him too far. But he just came back and took my hand, and well ... talked me into it."

"Nice save, Don," Lindsay thought, relieved. All that practice had paid off. Danny and she had invited Don over for dinner one night nearly a month ago and coached him in all the ways they thought Stella might try to convince him it was a mistake to get married. It looked like they had got enough of it right to make things work.

"Stella," she started carefully, "You are going to marry him, aren't you?"

The older woman looked up and smiled. "In a month. Do you still have all those phone numbers - caterers, flowers, halls...?" She stopped when her breath was once more cut off by the intensity of Lindsay's hug.


	4. Chapter 4: A New York Minute

Chapter 4: A New York Minute

In spite of Stella having little family of her own, the Flack/Bonasera wedding was shaping up to be a major event. All the touches Lindsay had vetoed in her own simple ceremony came into play when Stella was let loose. Wisely, Don stayed out the way as much as possible, and for the most part just showed up where and when he was told to for fittings and meetings with caterers and florists, where he just stayed silent and nodded whenever Stella looked at him.

Stella had met the Flack family a few times before Don and she moved in together. Don Sr. was a well-known figure in the world of policing in New York, a striking man whose Irish background had been passed on to his son in deep blue eyes and black hair, now going a distinguished silvery-gray. Not as tall as his son, Don Sr. still had a commanding presence, which he exercised at home only to keep the TV room sacrosanct for men, with the flat screen TV permanently tuned to the current sporting event: hockey, baseball, basketball or horse racing, but never golf.

Dora Flack was a warm and perpetually busy woman whose voice revealed her Italian heritage only when she raised it to get over the constant noise in a house full of daughters, sons-in-law, grandchildren, and innumerable neighbours dropping in at all hours of the day for food and gossip. The coffee was always hot and there was always fresh baking just out of the oven. No one ever saw Ma Flack sit still for more than a moment before she was up and moving again. Nothing ever seemed to fluster or surprise her, and Stella admired the way Dora controlled the whole family with one glance.

The evening they arrived at the house to have Sunday dinner with the whole family and announce their engagement, Stella had prepared herself for snide comments about cradle-snatching, if not from her prospective mother-in-law, then from one or two of Don's sisters. None came her way, though; Flack had primed his mother particularly well the day before when he had shown up to angle for a dinner invitation. Tentatively, Dora had asked about Stella; was it true she was the same age as Don's oldest sister? That would be Maria, who had diapered and babysat her baby brother until she went to university.

Don had brushed aside the question, and gone straight to the point. "You want more grandchildren, Ma, don't you? Well, Stella's the only woman I'll ever ask to marry me, so you better hope she wants kids someday."

His mother had looked into his stubborn blue eyes, so like those of his father, and had wisely decided to keep quiet about little things like age differences. Luckily, she found Stella funny and sweet and completely in love with her son, so, as she said to her older daughters when having coffee the next morning, "What's not to like?"

Stella had watched Don teasing his sisters and roughhousing with his nephews, and her heart had burned when she watched him rocking his youngest niece, only three months old, until the baby went to sleep in his arms. When she tried to talk to him about it later, he had laughed and pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless.

To get everything done in a month may have seemed impossible, but Lindsay, naturally, had filed all the information Stella and she had collected for her wedding, so it was a matter of choosing a hall which had an opening the same day as the church Stella had grown up in, and then everything moved from there. Stella knew what she wanted, and was dogged about getting it. Lindsay watched in open-mouthed awe as Stella charmed, coaxed, and bullied her way into her dream wedding, all in a short time frame and on a tight budget.

"Well, now I think I understand the phrase, 'a New York minute'," Lindsay laughed, as they walked back into the station house. She had spent her lunch hour taking silent notes as Stella worked a baker down from his original estimate of three months to make the required four-tiered chocolate wedding cake decorated with red roses to a promise of delivery in two weeks.

"Have you heard of a New York dollar?" Stella grinned.

"No. What's that?" Lindsay racked her brain; she was sure that wasn't one of the phrases Danny or Don used, and they were her touchstone for all things New York.

"It's when you get things at cost, without having to sleep with the caterer!"

Lindsay laughed, then scowled at Stella mockingly, "Hey, how come you didn't get that kind of deal for me?"

"Well, I _am_ prepared to sleep with someone if necessary, but I wasn't sure if you, little country girl, were up for the same deal!" Stella and Lindsay collapsed with laughter as Danny and Don walked up to them.

Danny put one hand on Don's shoulder and directed him down the hallway. "Just keep walking, man," he counseled, "Don't ask, don't tell, don't listen. Whatever it is, you definitely don't want to know!"

The laughter followed them to the lab.

Stella wiped her eyes. "I feel better."

Lindsay hiccupped once, then took a deep breath. "So, where's the list? How much more do we have to get done?"

Stella pulled out a ratty notebook held together with an elastic band and checked. "Nope, all done. If everyone does what I've told them, it should all come together."

"No one would dare not do what you told them," Lindsay said solemnly, "You told them all you knew a hundred and one ways to kill them and ninety-seven ways to hide the body."

"True, but I got much better service, didn't I?" Stella countered, her eyes gleaming.

Lindsay frowned, curiously asking, "Why a hundred and one ways to kill someone but only ninety-seven ways to dispose of the body?"

Stella rolled her eyes, "Lindsay," she drawled the name out like a teenager, "A threat has to leave some unanswered questions. It increases the sense of dread."

This time when they burst into laughter, Mac was walking down the hallway. He rolled his eyes and moved a little faster to get to the lab before he was tempted in his turn to ask any questions.

When he got to the lab, Danny was looking at samples through a microscope and Flack was leaning against a counter, watching him silently.

"Got anything for me, Danny?" Mac said quietly.

"Naw, nothing, Mac. The scumbag cleaned things off pretty well. There is a trace of something here, but I have some more tests to run."

"Okay." Mac turned to Flack and smiled with a touch of sympathy, "How're you holding up, Flack?"

Flack rolled his eyes dramatically, "I'm just keeping my head down and doing what I'm told, Mac."

"Probably the best thing. No offense, but I'm looking forward to this being over. It'll be nice to have the lab back to normal." Mac sighed. He had made a promise to himself at Danny and Lindsay's wedding that he wouldn't work so hard at keeping everything balanced, but he was still very uncomfortable with the idea of personal lives and work intersecting.

Danny looked up with a half-smile, "I don't know, Mac. This stuff is like a virus, ya' know. Once the wedding's over, the pools will just move on to the next thing."

Mac groaned at the thought. On the other hand, feeling a little brighter, he figured his bet on the Messer baby pool was still pretty safe.


	5. Chapter 5: Tell My Ma When I go Home

A/N: As always, thanks to my reviewers, especially to the Little Corinthian, who recognized the reference in Chapter 3.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to CBS and the creators of CSI:NY. Anyone you don't recognize, I take responsibility for.

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**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 5: Tell My Ma When I Go Home

Don rolled over with a groan, and reached for Stella as he did every morning, or depending on the shift, every evening. When his questing hand could not find her, he pried open his scummy eyes and looked around.

He was definitely not in his own bed. Well, strike that, he thought groggily; he was in his own bed, in his own bedroom, just in an odd kind of flashback way. He looked up at the ceiling he had stared at every morning and night for the nearly 24 years he had lived under his parent's roof, and tried to figure out what he was doing here, and why his mouth felt like his nephews' new puppy had been sleeping in it.

Flashes and glimpses of the night before came to him, in scattered pictures with no coherence. He remembered the bar, and the guys from the crime lab and the cops having a drinking competition, which Adam won (no one beats a lab rat in a drinking competition). He remembered Mac singing a duet with Danny, which had shut everyone up for at least a moment - they were good - and there had definitely been ... well, the only word he could come up with, and it wasn't one he would normally use was "carousing".

He had an image of his Da, sitting talking to Mac, and some - all? - of his brothers-in-law and cousins. They certainly had filled the bar, although Don couldn't remember which bar it had been, now. He had no idea how he had got home, either, or why he had come here. Had he shown up at the apartment pissed? Had Stella thrown him out?

He tried to get up, but his arms and legs felt as if they were tied on with string, so he slumped back onto the bed and closed his eyes again. Perhaps just another minute, he thought, and he'd be able to figure it out. After all, he wasn't a teenager, to get blackout drunk with his buddies and lose a day. He was a mature grownup, about to get married ...

His eyes snapped open. Married! That was it! He'd had a bachelor party: that's why all the guys were there, and why his head ached this morning. Stella _had _thrown him out, but a week ago. In a fit of truly weird female logic, she had told him they couldn't have sex or live together before the wedding night. She said she couldn't stand in front of the priest and make her vows in good conscience knowing they had been having sex only days before. Somehow the week would make a difference.

All his whining had done no good, especially since Stella cheated and talked to his mother. Dora had approved and got into the act. Stella and she had packed his bags and moved him to the Flack family home for the duration while he was on shift one night. He'd got home to a note on the door: "Go home, Don. Your mom is waiting for you." At least it had been signed, "Love, Stella." When he knocked on the door, no one had answered, and he had reluctantly gone home to his Ma, who had spent all week trying to feed him

Afraid Stella would change her mind altogether, Don had tried to deal with it all with a certain degree of maturity. Carefully he thought back to his party the night before. "Had there been a stripper?" He wondered a little anxiously. A few years ago, he had watched in horror as Danny had processed a scene in which a bride had discovered her fiancé had had sex with two strippers the night before the wedding. The most gruesome thing about the case had been that the man lived, and still married the woman when he had recovered.

No, no, he was pretty sure there had been no women at the bar at all. Certainly he was not feeling relaxed and eased, which he thought he would be had he had sex the night before, though that would have been just icky with his dad and family all around, anyway. Instead, in addition to the headache which was not easing off at all, he felt sick and shaky and ... nervous.

"I only hope Stella is feeling one half as bad as I am this morning," he thought as he finally managed to get out of the bed and make his way to the bathroom and a bottle of aspirin. After all, people in love were supposed to share, weren't they?

Meanwhile, Stella had not gone to bed yet. She had gone out with several girlfriends for a nice dinner and a last night at their favorite club, where they had danced mostly with each other. Then Lindsay had come home with her, knowing that if Danny made it home at all, she wouldn't want to share a bed with him, and they had made tea and talked until Lindsay had finally drifted off in mid-sentence and fallen asleep on the couch.

Stella had cleaned the kitchen, including under the refrigerator, then the bathroom, then remade the bed with clean sheets, then had woken Lindsay up by vacuuming the whole apartment. Only one day before the most important day of her life, and she couldn't keep from checking details obsessively. What if things went wrong? What if Don didn't show up? What if they all got called on a case? What if a terrorist decided to plant a bomb in downtown New York, or there was a city-wide blackout, or even worse, what if the caterer cancelled at the last moment?

Lindsay stopped her meanderings there. "Stella, get a grip." She spoke a little more harshly than she should have, perhaps, but after all, she had been woken up by a vacuum cleaner at 4:30 in the morning. "Nothing is going to go wrong, I promise. And even if everything fell apart: if there was no food and the whole city was in flames around you, guess what?"

Stella's eyes had gone wide - she hadn't thought about fire - but then she returned her attention to Lindsay when the annoyed little honey-blond snapped her fingers impatiently.

"Focus here, Bonasera. I promise you - I _promise_ you - that as long as the priest is there, and you and Don are there, nothing else will matter. It's all just stuff. You only need three people to make everything perfect."

Stella could feel the lump in her throat. She knew Lindsay was right, but she couldn't help but feel that something was going to go wrong. She muttered something about checking the Weather Channel to make sure there were no unseasonable snowstorms or hurricanes coming.

Lindsay gave up, pulled the quilt Stella had thrown over her up to her chin, and put her head under the couch cushion. Perhaps she could catch a few more minutes' sleep while Stella cleaned the oven.


	6. Chapter 6: Maybe Men Have a Point

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 6: Maybe Men have a Point

The day before Stella Bonasera married Don Flack Jr. went down in the annals of New York Crime Lab history as one of the worst days of the year. A fire broke out on the subway, closing two stations and creating a commuter nightmare, not to mention the people who had been trapped and had to be rescued, the people who had been injured or suffered from smoke inhalation, and the people who had been trampled when the panic started. It took three hours to get the fire out; then clean up began while the team started processing the scene to determine the cause.

Naturally, the fear was some form of terrorism. In fact, several of the less reputable news sources had already sent headlines screaming around the world that New York had been a victim of another terrorist attack. Mac spent nearly as much time on the phone with the Mayor and various reporters as he did in the lab, where everyone had been called in and most were now on overtime. As evidence from the scene was brought in, investigators rushed to process and test every piece. Mac seemed his usual contained self, but when he yelled at a lab tech who accidentally dropped a glass beaker, everyone froze. He stared around the lab, almost daring someone to say something, then walked out.

Stella caught him before he made it to his office, and simply stepped in front of him and wrapped her arms around him. He didn't move for a minute; then his arms came up and returned her embrace, hard.

"It's okay, Mac," she said, nearly under her breath. "Everyone understands."

He stepped back from her, running his hands down her arms until their hands clasped. "Really, Stella? I'm not sure I do. Five years. I've moved on, I thought."

"You'll never get over it, you know. Something like this will always hit you harder than it does other people. Some of the people working in the lab weren't even out of school when the planes hit the towers. Others weren't in the city. None of them lost someone in that attack. Claire ... " Stella's voice shook, then steadied, "Claire would want you to go on, but I think she'd be glad that you haven't forgotten her, that what happened to her still drives you to be a better investigator."

Mac looked down at their linked hands. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

She smiled a little shakily, "What for?"

"That this may mess things up for you tomorrow."

Stella stiffened a moment, and then said casually, "Lindsay was right, you know. All I need is Don and a priest to make everything go right. Now," she gave him a little push, "Go make nice with that little lab rat before I have to deal with hysterics and a mass threat to quit."

She walked down the hall towards the bathroom, where she hid in a stall for a few minutes to compose herself. Since Mac had got together with Peyton and Stella with Don, they had not had any "moments" together like that one. She rested her head on the cubicle door and could still feel the warmth of his body against her, the feel of his fingers wrapped around hers.

What was she doing? She was supposed to marry Don Flack tomorrow afternoon, in the church she had attended as a child, walking over in a crocodile line from the orphanage, taking communion from the same priest who taught them Religious Studies and listened to their weekly confession. She shouldn't still be having feelings like this about Mac, her boss, her friend, her friend's widower, Peyton's boyfriend. "Let me count the ways this is wrong," she thought frantically.

"I have to do something about this. I have to talk to Don. This is a mistake. I need more time. It's not fair to him to get married if I'm not sure how I feel," she said to herself as she left the washroom and began to search the hallways for Don. She knew he was around: they had spoken briefly about ... she looked at her watch ... four hours ago? Was it possible it had been four hours?

She grabbed a young uniformed officer by the arm as he walked past her and said, "Have you seen Detective Flack?"

"No, ma'am, sorry." She swung around to ask someone else and nearly missed the kid say, "Not since he went into the tunnel, anyway."

Slowly, she turned back. "Into what tunnel?"

He took a step back from her suddenly burning eyes, but she held on. "The ... the... subway, ma'am? There was a call; some workers got trapped behind a wall when part of the roof collapsed? Detective Flack and Detective Messer went in to find them?"

"When?" she snapped.

"Ummm, about three hours ago, maybe?" The kid sighed in relief when Stella let go of his arm and walked away. He rubbed it hard. Her fingers were definitely going to leave bruises, but he counted himself lucky. The look in her eyes promised death, and he was only glad he seemed to have escaped.

Stella moved at a controlled run to find Lindsay, and pulled her unceremoniously out of the lab. "Come on." She continued out the building, towing Lindsay by the arm, ignoring the calls from other CSIs and the startled looks from the lab techs. She even failed to notice Mac coming out of his office and calling her name.

"What? Where are we going? Stella, what is going on!" Lindsay dug in her heels as Stella made no attempt to answer. They were outside the building by the time Stella slowed down.

"Those IDIOTS..." Stella took a deep breath and started again. "Danny and Don have gone into the subway tunnel to try to rescue some trapped workers."

Lindsay nodded. "I know."

Stella turned on her like a striking snake. "You knew. You knew and you didn't tell me."

Lindsay put an arm around Stella's suddenly shaking shoulders. "Stel. Stel. It's his job. He's just doing his job."

"The day before...?" Her voice failed her. A moment ago, she had been looking to find Don so she could call off the wedding and deliberately break his heart, hadn't she? Maybe? Now here she was jumping out of her skin because he had gone to do his job and might get hurt.

"Okay, okay." Stella sat down on the stairs in front of the Crime Lab building. "Maybe men have a point," she admitted. "Women ARE hard to figure out, and I am one."

Lindsay sat down beside her, keeping one arm around her. "Nerves."

"No, really?" Sarcasm dripped from Stella's voice.

"A few days before Danny's and my wedding, I bought a ticket to Montana." Lindsay said quietly.

"Oh, Linds." Stella was one of the few people in the lab who knew why Lindsay had left home to come to New York. She squeezed her hand. "Why?"

"I don't know," Lindsay admitted. "To ask my dad to come to my wedding? To beg my family to forgive me? Or to just run away from what I was doing? I never really worked it out. I went to sleep and when I woke up, I cancelled the ticket."

She continued quietly, "You didn't sleep last night, Stella, not at all. You've been running yourself into the ground for months, first for me, then for you. Then today ... Whatever happened, I wouldn't worry about it. You and Don and a priest; that's all you need, remember?"

Just as she said that, a black and white came around the corner and Don jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs. Aside from soot all over his face and torn clothes, he was fine. "Stella," he said anxiously, "What's the matter?"

Lindsay quickly moved so that Don could take her place. "Is she okay?" Don mouthed the words over Stella's head as she collapsed crying into his arms.

"She will be. Tomorrow, around 4:00!" Lindsay grinned, then turned to welcome her own filthy hero, Danny.


	7. Chapter 7: Keep Me in Cannolis Forever

_A/N: As always, thanks to the reviewers! I've been promising 2 chapters a day, so here are the next ones. The more feedback, the longer this will go!_

_Disclaimer: Thanks to CBS and the creators of CSI:NY for letting me play with their toys. Anything people recognize belongs to the original creators; anything unrecognizable can be blamed on me. _

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 7: Keep Me in Cannolis For Ever

Danny woke up to the sound of the shower, and reached for his glasses to glance over at the clock, then groaned. It was 6:00 in the freaking morning, and neither Lindsay nor he had to go to work this morning. What the hell was she doing up so early, and already getting showered?

He stared blearily at the ceiling, then remembered. Flack. Flack, his best friend, was getting married today. To Stella, Danny's 'big sister'. He grinned before swinging out of bed. He better go find Don and keep him occupied; it was a long time until the wedding at 2:00, and Danny had lots of ideas for keeping Don too busy to think about the step he was taking.

Not that being married was a bad thing, he had to concede, as he opened the door to the bathroom and watched Lindsay's silhouette through the shower curtain. The fringe benefits were certainly lovely.

He froze when he realized that in the shower, Lindsay was crying.

"Montana?" He pulled back the curtain quickly. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Lindsay shrieked and jumped a foot when Danny's worried face suddenly appeared in her shower. The only girl in a large family, it had taken her weeks to agree to leaving the bathroom door unlocked when she was in it. Danny's arguments that they had to share one bathroom, and that she didn't have anything he hadn't seen before anyway had finally convinced her that it would be okay; today she bitterly regretted that agreement.

Danny stepped into the tub with her, putting a hand under her chin and pushing her hair out of the way so he could see into her eyes. "What is it, Linds?"

"It's nothing, Danny, really. Nothing important. Don't worry about it, okay? Not today." Lindsay couldn't help glancing over at the countertop, where an open box of tampons sat.

"Oh, Lindsay," Danny put his arms around her, not caring that the sweats he usually slept in were getting soaked. "I'm sorry, honey."

"Don't worry." She sniffed and rubbed her nose with a wet hand. Danny stroked her cheek, not sure if he was wiping away tears or just water from the shower. "I just thought ... I was five days late, and I thought ... this time maybe..."

"Honey, it's only been a few months since you went off the pill. The doc said it would take at least six for your natural rhythms to re-establish... " Danny stopped at her impatient shake of the head. She knew all this, better than he did.

"I'm just being stupid, and hormonal, and I really didn't want today ruined by feeling like a major bitch." Lindsay knew she sounded petulant.

Danny smiled at her reassuringly, "You don't know how to be a bitch, my love. Are you done, or can I wash your hair for you?" His hands tangled in her hair and he drew her closer for a kiss. With a sob, she relaxed against him and the shower suddenly became much steamier than it had been when she was in it alone.

Even with the diversion, Danny showed up at the Flacks' house by 7:30. He didn't bring anything with him but his appetite; he knew from experience how annoyed it made Dora when people didn't eat her food. She was waiting at the kitchen door for him: front doors were for guests, priests, doctors, and funerals. She kissed him on the cheek when she opened the door, having grown very fond of this young man in the years he had worked with her son.

"Dora," Danny kissed her back, "When are you going to run away with me and keep me in cannolis for ever?"

Mr. Flack Sr. came into the kitchen just in time to hear Danny's joke and coughed. "Detective Messer." His voice was deep and gruff.

"Sir," Danny responded, grinning from ear to ear. In spite of the fact that Detective Flack Sr. had dogged the Messer family for years, waiting to catch Danny's father or uncles out, Don's trust in and fondness for the youngest Messer had finally changed his father's mind about the apple falling far from the tree. From tolerating each other, Danny and Mr. Flack had developed a friendly relationship, driven by Dora's delight in Danny's cheeky ways.

"How's the boy doing this morning?" Danny accepted a cup of coffee from Dora and sat at the table to a plate of steaming hot food which magically appeared.

"No idea," Mr. Flack said. "He was still snoring when I came downstairs."

Dora fired up immediately. "What do you mean he's still sleeping? He needs to get up and get something to eat right away! Donny? Donny! You get out of bed right this minute!" She yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

"Aw, Ma," came a grumble, "Do I havta'?" Danny looked up with a grin as Don walked into the kitchen, still yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"Hey, man, what are you doing here eating my breakfast? Don't you have a home to eat at?" Don grumbled.

Danny laughed, "And miss one of Ma Flack's breakfasts? If I thought your dad had turned in all his weapons, I'd be here every morning."

Dora smiled as she placed an equally laden plate in front of her son. "Sure, and 'tis welcome you'd be, too," she said in a passable imitation of an Irish brogue. She'd had plenty of role models in her married life.

"Seriously, Danny, what are you doing here so early? It's only ... Christ on a crutch, it's only 7:45." Don ducked away from his mother's reprimanding smack to the head for the cursing with practiced ease, and grinned up at her unrepentantly. "Got any coffee, Ma?"

"I'm on a secret mission," Danny said quietly as Dora huffed off in disgust to make her son a fresh pot of coffee. "Stella told me to keep you busy this morning, and Lindsay kicked me out at 7:00 to make sure I did it."

"Ya coulda just let me sleep a little longer, and accomplished your goal," Don muttered grumpily. "I can't believe you are so awake after yesterday."

"Yeah, well, I had a little pick-me-up this morning," Danny smirked, trying to forget Lindsay's tears.

Don groaned, "Don't even talk about it. This is the longest we've gone since we started … you know."

Danny smirked even more, "Just think how you'll appreciate a week in a high-class resort, then."

Don looked up with a frown, "Nah, you know we're not going away, Danny. With things at work being so crazy, and money a little tight after hospital bills and all ... " He stopped as Danny pushed a large envelope over the table toward him. "What's this?"

"Open it."

Don pulled out a travel agent's folder, which revealed a complete itinerary for a five-day holiday in Niagara Falls, honeymoon capital of the world, starting with a night, that night, in one of the most exclusive hotels in New York.

He looked at Danny in shock.

"It's from everyone at the lab. We thought it would be better than a coffee-maker. I tried to get them to agree to Atlantic City or Vegas, but Lindsay voted for Niagara, and her vote has a lot more weight than mine."

"I don't know what to say, Danny. It's ... it's a great gift. Thank you. Thanks to all of you."

"S'okay. Sheldon suggested the extra night here in town: that way you guys can leave in the morning and drive in the daylight. We rented you a car, too, so you don't have to borrow a squad car."

"Hey, I have a car." Don protested, looking a little hurt.

Danny shot him a telling look, "Yeah. Like I said, we rented you a car."


	8. Chapter 8 Are You A' Angel?

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 8: "Are you a' Angel?"

When Lindsay knocked, Stella was in the bathroom on her knees vomiting up what felt like anything she had managed to swallow for the last three months. It took her a few minutes to get to the door, and by the time she did, Lindsay was starting to worry.

"Hey, what's up? You weren't still sleeping, were you?" Lindsay pushed her way into the living room so she could put down some of the bags she was carrying. "I have the wreath for Rhianna," Don's niece was going to be the sweetest little flower girl, "and the flowers for Don's mom. Oh, and I finished the bags of _koufetta; _did I pronounce that right?" She pulled out a handful of mesh bags tied up with gold ribbon and filled with nine candied bittersweet almonds each. When she looked at Stella, though, Lindsay realized how pale she looked. "Stella? You okay?"

Stella wrapped her arms around herself and ran back to the bathroom, where Lindsay could hear her being horribly, miserably sick. With a sigh, Lindsay went into the kitchen to brew up some tea and make toast, the best cure for a nervous stomach she could think of. As Lindsay took mugs down from the cupboard, she suddenly stilled and stood for a minute in the middle of the kitchen, only moving again when the kettle boiled. She pulled peppermint tea out of the cupboard, filled the teapot, and set it to steep. Then she pasted a smile on her face and went to see if Stella needed any help.

She coaxed her friend out of the bathroom and made her sip some tea and eat a piece of dry toast, then pushed Stella back into the bedroom to have a shower. While Stella recovered under the steam, Lindsay cleaned up the kitchen and straightened up the living room. Pretty soon, several women were going to be showing up to help Stella get ready for this most important day, and Lindsay, as matron of honour, was going to make sure everything went perfectly.

When Stella reappeared, she wasn't quite as pale as before. "I don't know what happened," she said. "I got out of bed and couldn't stop throwing up. Do you think I have the 'flu, Lindsay? I can't be sick, not today."

Lindsay turned her back to Stella to make sure no hint of her suspicions could be seen. "I told you yesterday, Stella; it's just nerves. Now, before everyone shows up, I have something to give you." She handed Stella an envelope identical to the one Danny had given Flack a little earlier that morning. "Open it now."

Stella burst into tears when she read through the information on the night at the hotel, the five days in Niagara, and the rented car to get them there. She hugged Lindsay and thanked her over and over.

"It's from everyone at the lab; we all chipped in. I mean, between you two, you have most of what you need, and I knew you weren't planning a honeymoon." Lindsay hugged her back. "Danny nearly convinced the other guys to book you a trip to Atlantic City or Vegas, but I was pretty sure the Falls would suit you better!"

"And a night at the Waldorf-Astoria! I've never even dared go into the lobby before. Lindsay, what made you think of all this?" Stella was overwhelmed.

"Hawkes thought of the night in the hotel, so that you could leave in the morning. And Danny thought of the car, because he said Flack's old beater wouldn't make a six hour drive. It was a group effort."

"I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have thought of it without your help. Do you know how glad I am that you moved to New York, Linds?"

Lindsay closed her eyes as Stella gave her another hug. Overall, she was pretty content with her move too. Just one more thing was needed to make her life complete.

"Come on, lady. Time to get you even more beautiful for your special day!" A knock on the door told Lindsay that help had arrived, and she went to let in Don's mother and two oldest sisters, Maria and Elena. Maria's youngest daughter, five-year-old Rhianna, was already dressed in her flowergirl dress, a froth of teal georgette and ivory lace.

The colour scheme had been the only bone of contention in the whole process. Dora Flack had taken the news that her boy would be married in Stella's church without a flicker, only asking that his parish priest, who had baptized him, be allowed to speak the blessing. Luckily, the priests at the two churches were old friends and had managed to share the ceremony out equitably. Flowers, guest lists, even the wedding dinner had all been arranged without a hitch.

Dora had put her foot down firmly on the proposed colour scheme, however, when Stella showed her the deep green she had chosen to complement her own colouring and the emerald ring Don had given her.

"Not green, my dear. Never green at a wedding. It's very bad luck. It just cannot be done."

No amount of arguing would change her mind. The Irish side of the family would refuse to enter the church, she predicted; there was no other option. "It would be risking a terrible fate, my dear," she said mysteriously. "It would be like inviting The Good Folk into your marriage. No telling what might come of it. The ring alone is danger enough."

No matter what arguments Stella, Lindsay, and even a reluctantly recruited Don tried to come up with, Dora was serenely indifferent. Finally, when Stella gave up in despair, Lindsay took Dora shopping, and together they had agreed on a deep, rich teal-blue cloth with a sheen and weight that made everything look and feel luxurious. In that fabric, Lindsay's dress, a simple princess line with long tight sleeves and low-cut straight neckline outlined in gold lace, looked like something out a medieval fantasy.

Lots of friends arrived at various times throughout the morning. Some were dropping things off, others were picking things up to take to the church or the hall, and still others just came by to drink Dora's coffee and share in the excitement.

The next few hours were a blur of women dressing, primping, and talking, talking, talking. Lindsay had bought two dozen packages of nylons in various sizes, knowing that everyone would run at least one pair, and more than one woman had blessed her foresight. Stella herself went through three pairs; Lindsay finally threatened to dress her like a Barbie doll if she didn't calm down. Elena, who worked in a salon, arranged Stella's hair in a sophisticated upsweep like a crown over which her mother's veil was draped. Stella's dress was similar to Lindsay's in style, but made in a rich ivory brocade. When she stepped out of the bedroom to show the collection of women, everyone dropped silent.

Rhianna looked up at her in awe. "Auntie 'Tella, are you a' angel?" She asked in a hushed whisper which broke the tension.

"Do I look as pretty as you do, darling?" Stella said gently.

The little girl tilted her head and thought about it a moment. "No," she finally answered. "I think you look prettier."

Lindsay called Rhianna over to have her wreath of red and ivory roses pinned to her dark curls, and gave her an extra kiss for being sweet to Stella. In spite of everything, Stella still looked pale and very nervous. Lindsay took a moment to ask, "Are you all right, Stel?"

"I don't know. I feel as if my feet are not quite attached to the rest of me, and my head is definitely not."

"Sit down, Stella," Lindsay said a little sharply, as the bride swayed. "Breathe. Come on, honey, it's just nerves."

Dora came over as she saw Stella go white. "Go get my bag, Lindsay, there's a good girl. I have a little cure for this ailment." When Lindsay handed her the bag, Dora pulled an airline sized brandy bottle out of it. "Just a quick nip, my dear; it'll put the roses back in your cheeks."

For a minute, Lindsay was going to say something, take the alcohol away, but then she stopped herself. She didn't know much about Catholics, but she was pretty sure the day of a wedding was not considered the best time to announce the coming of the next generation, especially when she was not even sure her suspicions were correct. One sip, which was all Stella needed, was unlikely to make any difference. She should drop a hint to Stella before the toasts though; champagne may not be the best idea either.

Lindsay sighed. Happy though she was for Stella and Don (she was rarely wrong about this particular suspicion), she couldn't help but wish it were her having to stay away from alcohol.


	9. Chapter 9: All My Children Call Me Da

_A/N: I won't be near a computer tomorrow, so I am posting four chapters instead of two today. Please review whether you are enjoying the story or not; I try to respond to every review and appreciate suggestions which will improve the story._

_Disclaimer: None of the canon characters are mine; they all belong to CBS and the creative team at CSI:NY. _

* * *

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 9: All My Children Call Me Da

The limousine pulled up at the church, and Lindsay got out first. She turned to help Stella, but Stella didn't move.

"Come on, Stel." Lindsay stood with her hand out.

"I can't. I'm going to be sick." Stella did look pale again, but Lindsay was not going to let this happen.

"Stella Bonasera, you are going to get out of this car and go into that church or you are going to have to explain to Mrs. Flack why you are standing up her son!" She hissed under her breath so the people standing on the sidewalk to greet the bride didn't hear. It was the most serious threat Lindsay could come up with on short notice, but it seemed to work.

Stella stepped out of the limousine to general applause, smiling at the oohs and ahs from the crowd of people who spent their Saturdays hanging around churches to watch the weddings. A blush gave her face some colour, which Lindsay considered a vast improvement over a few minutes ago. Stella turned to her and grabbed her arm in sudden panic as they climbed the stairs to the church door.

"What if he's not there? What if he came to his senses?" Her voice was shaking.

"Stella, I have my cell phone, and Danny has been dogging Don since 7:30 this morning. If anything,_ anything_, had happened, I would know about it and we would have dealt with it. Now take a deep breath." Lindsay waited until Stella had done as ordered. "Smile." Stella tried, at least. "Now, let's go see how gorgeous our men look in their tuxedos, okay?"

This time Stella's smile was a little brighter.

They stood at the back of the church with Maria and Rhianna. There had been much discussion about who would walk Stella down the aisle. An orphan, she had no one who could act as her escort. Mac Taylor had walked Lindsay down the aisle, which felt right, as he had acted as a father substitute for her since she had come to New York. Stella had not even considered Mac; whatever their feelings for each other had been or were now, him giving her away was an uncomfortable thought. She had been prepared to walk down the aisle on her own; it seemed suitable, as she had spent most of her life on her own.

A week before the wedding, though, Don Flack Sr. had shown up at her apartment, and asked for a few minutes of her time. She had invited him in and made him coffee. They had never spoken much; it was hard to get a word in with Dora around, and Don Sr. was not much of a talker at the best of times.

They spoke for a few minutes about generalities; then Don Sr. put down his coffee cup and said abruptly, "Dora doesn't know I'm here. Neither does Jr."

"Really, sir?" Stella's shock showed.

"No. I didn't want to discuss this with them. I wanted to talk to you first."

Stella swallowed hard. She had been waiting for this. She was only surprised that it had taken so long.

Don Sr. reached forward and took her hand. "Stella, I know you have no father or other relative to walk you down the aisle. Dora told me you would be taking this journey on your own."

Stella nodded, speechless.

"I know if it had been up to him, your father would have been proud to escort you. As that is not possible, I would be very honoured if you would allow me to stand in for him on this occasion, to act as your _koumbaros, _your godfather." He pronounced the unfamiliar Greek word as if he had only read it, giving it a slightly Italian accent.

Stella knew it would embarrass him, but she couldn't help it; she hugged him and burst into tears. She wondered if she had ever in her life cried as much as she seemed to have cried the past few months.

They had told no one else, preferring to keep this moment between them. Now Stella stood at the back of the church she had grown up in, waiting for her escort to bring her to her new family, her first family.

"No," she amended that thought as she looked at Lindsay, fussing over Rhianna's hair, as she searched out people in the church: Mac, Hawkes, Sid, Marty, people from the lab and from the police station, people she had worked with closely and got to know in ways she may never have expected to. There were even doctors and nurses from the hospital who had looked after Don after the explosion. Families could be made, and here were her two families joined together.

Then she saw movement in front of the altar, as the two priests escorted Danny and Don out of the office where they had been waiting, and pacing, if she knew Don. Her throat went dry at the sight of the two handsome men in their dark tuxedos, looking unnaturally tidy and serious.

Don Sr. was suddenly there, handing her the bouquet of red and ivory roses, and offering her his arm. Lindsay looked back; her eyes opened wide, then filled with tears. Her smile was as wide as a prairie sky when she turned back to face the congregation, who all stood up as the first strains of Pachebel's Canon began. Stella took a deep breath, smiled at Rhianna skipping down the aisle, blew a kiss to Lindsay as she started her slow procession, and then squeezed Don Sr.'s arm and kissed his cheek. After all her nerves and uncertainties, she was now perfectly calm and sure of herself. "Let's go."

"Da." Don Sr. added without a smile.

"Excuse me?"

"All my children call me Da," he explained, as they started to walk towards his son waiting at the altar.

When Don Jr. saw who was walking down the aisle with his bride, his smile lit up his face in spite of the tears which welled up in his eyes. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.


	10. Chapter 10: Time in a Bottle

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 10: Time in a Bottle

Don never could remember much about the day he married Stella Bonasera in her parish church.

He carried some clear pictures in his head:

- Danny dragging him around to the b-ball court for a game of one-on-one at 8:00 in the morning and beating him into the ground;

- trying to choke down some of the enormous lunch his mother had left for them before she left for Stella's;

- his little niece skipping along waving to all the people she knew and calling out, "Auntie 'Tella's coming behind me. She looks like a' angel!";

- the odd mixture of worry, delight, and fierce love in Danny's eyes when he saw his wife coming down the aisle;

- the sight of his own father, beaming with all the pride he had shown in each of his daughters as he escorted his son's bride down the aisle.

All those pictures paled beside the image he carried forever of Stella on her wedding day.

She did look like an angel, or perhaps a queen. She was still a little pale, which added a fragility to her striking beauty. Her dark hair was pulled off her face, so her eyes were emphasized. Don had noticed before that when she was feeling something deeply, her eyes became an even darker green. Today they almost rivaled the rich colour of Lindsay's dress. He was dazzled.

When she got to the sanctuary, she kissed Don's father one more time, and said quietly, "Thank you, Da." And she reached out to take Don's hand. He never quite lost the sensation of electric warmth from her hand at that moment; he could call it up until the day he died.

He knew they got through the vows because no one laughed. He could feel the priest's hands on his head, giving the blessing. He would never forget kissing Stella; her lips felt cold against his then flashed into sudden devastating heat. He heard the joyous pealing of the bells, matching the pounding of his heart, and the triumphant organ playing Purcell's Trumpet Tune as they went down the aisle together, man and wife. He remembered the sun striking them as they stood on the stairs of the church and kissed again. He felt the sting of the rice being thrown as the congregation followed them out of the church to their limo.

In the car, they hardly spoke. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her again, being careful not to disarrange her veil or dress. He was almost afraid to touch her in case she fell apart in his arms. She sighed and curled against him.

"I was afraid you wouldn't be there," she whispered.

"Where would I be? You are so beautiful. Are you happy?' he murmured back.

She laughed low in delight, "That's just not a big enough word."

They arrived at the reception hall in time to greet guests. Lindsay and Danny got there only a few moments before, but Lindsay had already organized the receiving line, talked with the caterers, met with the band leader, and found a place for the photographer to set up for some formal shots with the wedding party and family. Stella looked at her in fond amazement. "Remind me to let Lindsay organize the next military operation the US gets involved in, Mac," she laughed.

Mac watched Lindsay as she gathered up the family for pictures and frowned. She looked strained and a little worried, a look he hadn't seen since Danny and she got married. "Oh well," he thought, "She's been working pretty hard on getting all this together. That's probably all it is."

The reception was not quite such a blur for Don as the ceremony had been, although he found himself thinking over and over, "We did it; we did it." He had been so sure something was going to go wrong that he had hardly been able to believe it when she had appeared in the doorway of the church. He had to keep touching her all evening to be sure that she was really there. He kept twisting his new ring on his left hand awkwardly, but then reaching out to hold her left hand and rub his thumb over the matching emerald and gold rings he had placed on her finger.

He hardly ate dinner, as he was constantly being called over to various tables to greet friends and family. He was kissed and questioned and fussed over by every auntie and cousin he had (and there were, as he had told Stella the first time she had dinner with him, a LOT of them), and grinned when one particularly stubborn auntie gave him the phone number of her care attendant, "Just in case it doesn't work out!" He made sure that piece of paper was ripped up into tiny shreds and flushed down the toilet.

Had he sat with Stella more, he might have noticed she wasn't eating much either, and had had only sips of champagne when the numerous toasts were given. He didn't think much about it even when he did notice that while his glass had been refilled a few times, hers was still almost full. Lindsay had warned him that Stella had been pretty nervous that morning, and he was certainly not going to make a big deal out of her not drinking.

When the final toasts had been made, the tables cleared, and the music begun, Don stood and reached out a hand to his bride. They moved to the middle of the dance floor, and all eyes were on them. The music swelled; it had been a difficult choice, but the song they finally agreed on was Jim Croce's "Time in a Bottle". Although they had only danced together a few times, they seemed to move as one, and it was several moments before other couples stopped watching and joined them. The music filled the room as dancers filled the floor.

_If I could save Time in a bottle  
The first thing that I'd like to do  
Is to save every day  
'Til Eternity passes away  
Just to spend them with you_

_If I had a box just for wishes  
And dreams that had never come true  
The box would be empty  
Except for the memory  
Of how they were answered by you_


	11. Chapter 11: Last Dance

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 11: Last Dance

Don danced with his mother, who kissed him and gave him some good advice, then with Lindsay, who gave him some odd advice, then with his niece Rhianna, who fell asleep on his shoulder. Once Marie's husband, Tom, took the baby, Don danced with each of his sisters in order of age, to avoid any argument. Then he had to dance with his female cousins and most of the aunties. In between the family dances, he partnered women from the lab and from the station; he had no idea he knew so many women until he had to somehow fit them all on his dance card. He watched Stella being passed around the male guests; there were so many she had to share out her dances in even shorter pieces.

He danced with Peyton near the end of the evening so that Mac and Stella could have a few minutes alone. Don didn't know what to think about their relationship: everyone had assumed that they had been sleeping together off and on for years. Don wasn't so sure anymore, and had decided when he realized he was getting serious about Stella that he would lock any speculation about the two of them away and never ask. He wasn't sure any answer would satisfy him. Tonight, he was even more certain that he could never bring this topic up with Stella; what on earth had Mac said to her to make her cry?

In his arms, Peyton sighed; she had seen it too. "I suppose we'll never know, will we?"

Don looked down at her, his face sombre for the first time all night, "I don't suppose it matters."

At that moment, Mac and Stella danced past, and Stella turned smoothly from Mac's arms to Don's, trading places with Peyton without missing a beat. "Last dance, Don. Then we have to get ready to go." Her eyes were so bright and laughing, Don almost questioned what he had seen a moment ago. Mac and Peyton danced off in a different direction, leaving Don and Stella alone.

"Did Danny tell you about the gift from the lab?" Stella asked. They really hadn't had much chance to talk all day.

"You know? I was going to surprise you." Don said, a little chagrined that he had not been able to give his Stella a gift which matched up to the generosity of their workmates.

"Lindsay gave me the brochures and everything. Are you okay with Niagara Falls? Wouldn't you prefer AC or Vegas?" Stella wanted him to enjoy his time off. It was the first vacation he had taken since the bomb incident last year.

"Hmm, let's see. Smoky, noisy gambling dens, or a quiet hotel room with you?" He tightened his arms and bent down to kiss her. "I think I'll manage at the Falls. Do you have your passport with you?"

"Lindsay made me bring it; she said it would be easier, because our hotel is over the border."

"Yeah, Danny said that too. Can we go now, do you think?" Don was suddenly wild to get out of there and be alone with Stella. He kissed her again, a little more demandingly.

"A few more minutes – cut the cake, change, throw the bouquet …" Stella listed off.

Don groaned, "It's going to take us hours to get out of here."

"Aren't you having fun? You certainly seemed to be dancing with every woman in the place." Stella teased.

"Why, Ms. Bonasera-Flack, are your eyes green?" He responded in kind.

"Well, yes, in fact, they are! I'll just have to make sure that I keep you too busy tonight to even think about any other woman." Stella spoke in his ear, and he shivered.

"Let's cut the cake and all the rest of the junk and get out of here, okay?"

She laughed at his impatience, but stepped out of his arms and went over to the band, signaling them to stop. She and Don cut the four layer chocolate cake decorated with red roses, delivered in beautiful shape in good time, and handed it around to each guest, giving them a chance to say goodbye and congratulations. Rhianna, who had woken up again, and two of her cousins handed out the tulle bags of Greek _koufettas_ Lindsay had completed the night before: each was filled with candied bittersweet almonds, signifying the blend of happiness and sorrow that married life brings, in multiples of three as a wish for fertility.

Lindsay joined Stella in the room set aside for changing to help her out her dress and make sure she had everything she needed. Stella changed into a simple suit, and let her hair down, looking a little more like herself. Lindsay gave her a hug and said, "Call if you need anything."

"What could I possibly need?" Stella's smile was soft and bright.

"Well, here are a few things you might find a use for," Lindsay handed her a full backpack. "For the trip and the hotel room." She had run out in the morning when others were helping Stella get ready to grab a few things from the corner market that she thought might come in handy.

Stella gave her another hug. "Lindsay, thank you so much for everything. None of this would have happened if not for you. I love you."

"I love you, too. Be happy, Stella, you and Don." Lindsay's voice was shaking, and Stella started to ask what was wrong, but Lindsay just shrugged and pushed her out the door. "Go on, they're waiting for you."

When Stella appeared again, the unmarried women lined up at the end of the hall for the throwing of the bouquet. Stella looked over her shoulder and took careful aim. As she planned, the bouquet fell into Peyton's hands, at which everyone cheered (some sounding more heartfelt than others). Don and Stella said goodbye to the Flack family, Danny, and a grinning, embarrassed Mac one more time, then slipped out the back door.

"Lindsay: I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to her or thank her," Don said. "Where is she?"

"I told Danny to go find her; I don't think she was feeling very well," Stella said with a little frown. "Maybe I gave her my 'flu bug."

"What 'flu bug?" Don asked, concerned.

"Oh, I was so sick this morning! I thought I was going to vomit up my toenails. Funny, 'cause I feel all right now. Lindsay said it was just nerves, but if she's sick too …" Stella shrugged; she supposed if she was sick, she'd know about it soon enough.


	12. Chapter 12: I'm a New Yawker Now

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 12: "I'm a New Yawker Now"

Stella had told Danny to go look for Lindsay, and he had only waited to be sure the bride and groom got away before obeying. He found her in the changing room, hanging up Stella's dress and tidying up the room, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Lindsay? What is it, honey?" Danny stepped in front of her and pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, her tears turning into sobs when she heard his voice.

"Lindsay? Linds? What's up? Are you hurt? Did something happen?" Danny waited for her to stop crying and answer him, but she just burrowed closer and cried more. "Okay, okay. It's all right now." He rubbed her back and soothed her until the wrenching sobs turned to hiccups, and she finally fell silent, her body still shaking as she tried to breathe normally.

"I'm sorry," her voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear it. "It just was too much."

Danny sat down on the couch, pulling Lindsay onto his lap. "It's okay. You've worked really hard on all this; it's no surprise if it's all a bit of a let down now …" He stopped talking when she shook her head wearily.

"Stella's pregnant." Her voice was flat and exhausted.

"What? How do you know?" Danny found he was rather shocked at the thought.

"I just know." Her confidence shook him.

"Did Stella tell you?"

"She doesn't know yet."

"How do you know, then?" Danny was trying to keep up.

"I told you; I just know." She sighed wearily, and Danny wrapped his arms around her tighter. She hid her face in his shoulder.

"Lindsay, I'm so sorry." He didn't know what else to say.

"I know. It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. I just … I just want a baby, Danny, your baby - our baby." She began to cry again, and Danny's heart fell. There was no fixing this, not at the moment, anyway. All he could do was hold her and tell her how much he loved her, and wait for her to gain control.

When she finally stopped crying again, she went to the bathroom to wash her face and try to cool her red eyes. She hoped people would think what Danny had; that she was just tired from the busyness of the past few weeks. She would have to try to stay away from Mac, though, and maybe Sheldon Hawkes; they were two who actually read her better than most.

By the time they returned to the hall, the families with young children had left, as had most of the older people. The ones remaining were mostly interested in dancing, and Danny and she joined them without comment. She had started to enjoy herself when Hawkes cut in, leaving Danny to squire one of the lab techs who always looked at him as if he was a particularly tasty worm, and she an early bird. However, Lindsay was pretty sure that Danny could look after himself.

Hawkes swung her easily into a quickstep, keeping his arms around her comfortably. Something about Hawkes always made her (and lots of other women, she suspected) want to talk, so she would have to keep her mind on the conversation or she might let something slip. She put her head down on his shoulder to avoid any conversation, but it didn't last long.

"You must be glad," Shel said quietly in her ear. "It all went perfectly."

"I can't take much credit for that," Lindsay smiled up at him. "Stella knew exactly what she wanted, and I think she pretty much got it."

"Today, though. Every time I looked up, you were organizing something." He smiled down at her, noting her paleness and reddened eyes. "It must be a bit of a let down, though. What will you keep busy with now?" His eyes twinkled.

"Oh, I suspect New York will give me something to do. Yesterday, for example, kept us running." The results had been less horrific than expected; only about two dozen seriously injured with three people dead, two heart attacks because of existing conditions. One person died from injuries sustained during the panic to get out of the tunnel. "It could have been much worse; I know Mac thought it would be." They both glanced over at Mac, who was dancing with Peyton again.

"Well, he has some excuse for feeling pessimistic when it comes to these situations, I guess." Shel spun her around and caught her again in an easy move. "How about you? New York feeling like home?"

"Of course," she declared a little too brightly. "I love living here."

"And you don't miss home, Montana?"

"What is he digging for?" Lindsay wondered. Out loud, she snorted as she tossed her head, "I'm a New Yawker now," imitating Danny's Staten Island drawl as best she could.

An arm came around her and pulled her out of Hawkes' embrace, "Hey, did I hear you calling my wife Montana?" Danny scowled at Hawkes mock-fiercely. "You better watch your step."

Shel held up his hands in defeat, and chuckled as Danny danced off possessively with Lindsay. "Protective much, Messer?" He murmured under his breath, and turned to find another couple to cut in on.

Danny kissed Lindsay, and held her close. "Can we go now?" He didn't want to dance with anyone else; he just wanted to put his weary little wife to bed.

Lindsay sighed and looked around. "I think so. Mrs. Flack said she would take care of cleaning up tonight. Where does she get so much energy?"

Danny chuckled. "Constant infusions of high octane caffeine?" He suggested.

Lindsay giggled as she saw Dora finish off yet another cup of coffee, and signal the server again. "Must be it. Come on; I just have to say good bye and make arrangements to meet for tomorrow."

It didn't take very long for Lindsay to get ready to go; people seemed to be encouraging her to leave, Danny was glad to see. He hailed a cab and waited outside until Lindsay walked out of the hall, pulling her coat on and shivering a bit with cold and exhaustion.

Danny bundled her into the cab, gave their address, and slid into the back seat with her. By the time he was beside her, Lindsay had already fallen asleep. He pulled her into his arms for the short ride, paid the driver, and then offered him an extra tip for some help. Danny lifted Lindsay out of the cab and carried her up the stairs, waiting for the cabbie to hold doors open. Thanking him, Danny carried Lindsay up the stairs. He could feel the strain, but it was worth it to make sure she stayed asleep as long as possible.

He had to put her on her feet to open the apartment door, but she just leaned against him, and murmured softly when he picked her up again, something about a knight in shining armour. He smiled as he kicked the door closed behind him, and carried her to the bedroom. She woke up a little again as he was taking off her clothes, and she sleepily tried to help. Finally, she was tucked up asleep wearing one of his old Academy t-shirts, which had somehow all ended up in her possession. Once, when he had stolen one back to go play basketball, he had been distracted by her scent all day. He'd about given up at that point.

He went back to lock up the apartment and check messages. There was one from Don which he left on the phone for Lindsay to listen to in the morning: he simply said, "Danny, you are the best friend I can imagine. Lindsay, I owe you everything." Danny thought Lindsay would appreciate that.

There were no other messages, just a hang up. That was happening a few times a week; he assumed it was a telemarketer, as the number was blocked. He deleted it and didn't think about it again.

Both he and Lindsay were off for the morning, at least; his shift began at 4:00, and Lindsay wasn't in until the next day, all going well. He hoped that she would be able to sleep through the day; he didn't know what else to do for her.

When he crawled into bed beside her, she muttered at his cold feet, then rubbed hers against them to warm them up. He wrapped her in his arms and held her through the night.


	13. Chapter 13: A Night at the WA

_A/N: Thank you to all the people who are reading and reviewing this story. I enjoy your speculations, but have to admit some things are as much a mystery to me as to you!_

_I do have to warn you all that this story will be rated M for language, adult situations, and some difficult issues after these two chapters. I hope that you will all keep reading, but be warned; this is meant for an adult audience. I promise there will still be fluff, just more real-life fluff._

_Disclaimer: fill in the blanks._

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 13: A Night at the Waldorf-Astoria

Don had to coax Stella out of the lobby of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel; she just wanted to stand and enjoy the sight. He had booked them in, parked the car, carried in the overnight bags, used a complimentary phone to leave a message for Lindsay and Danny, and was standing at the elevator trying to be patient before she finally looked around for him. She gave him a frankly delighted and impenitent grin as she slipped a hand into his arm.

"I have very few dreams left unfulfilled; having a night here was one of them. I wonder how Lindsay knew?"

Don's ears reddened. "I guess you must have mentioned it sometime," he muttered.

Stella's eyes went wide, "You didn't know about any of this, did you?"

"No way. I'd have told them to save their money." Don's reply was too quick for Stella to doubt him, and she appreciated his point. The gift was almost overwhelmingly generous. "But I guess Lindsay and I were talking one day, you know, kind of what if? And I might have told her about the Waldorf-Astoria…"

"And when Sheldon suggested a hotel for the night, of course she would remember." Stella finished the thought, laughing a little.

Don nodded. Lindsay Messer was never late, and she never forgot a conversation. The whole department knew those two rules. "I never meant for all this."

Stella squeezed his arm. "They didn't do it because you meant it, you know. The best way to thank them all is to enjoy every minute of it, so that is what we are going to do."

They stepped into the elevator; as soon as the doors closed, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her as thoroughly as he knew how. "A whole day of doing that under the eyes of my whole family and half the church." He kissed her again, deeper and longer. She could hardly breathe when he let her go. "A whole week of not touching you, not holding you at night. I was going crazy, Stel."

"Me, too. But I'll make it worth your while, I promise." She was edgy with the need he had built in her, and did not give him much chance to speak again. When the elevator doors opened on their floor, they ran down the hallway to find their room, stopping to kiss, to touch, to be as close as possible. He swiped the door card and turned the handle and they were inside the room. He turned and pushed her up against the door, holding her there with no effort at all, his mouth ravaging hers. Her feet barely touched the floor; she raised her legs to his hips, and he lifted her easily with his arms under her thighs, and turned to find the bed.

"Wow." He stopped dead at the sight of the room, and spun around, Stella leaning back so she could take it all in, the bouquets of red and ivory roses filling the air with their scent, the luxurious furniture and bedding, the curtains open at windows looking over the cityscape, with the lights and bustle of the city far below them on the fifteenth floor.

He carried her, legs still wrapped around him, across the room and fell on the king-sized bed with her under him, and kissed her, moving a little so his full weight wasn't on her. He brushed her hair out her eyes and stared at her until she laughed.

"What? Have I got raccoon eyes or something?"

"You are so beautiful. I can't believe you're here with me." He found her left hand and kissed her ring finger, then her palm. "I love you so much, Stella." His voice was husky, his eyes shining.

Stella sighed with pleasure as his hand wandered down her body, exploring, teasing. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him hard, sucking his lower lip into her mouth and licking it. She felt his instant response and smiled wickedly, arching her hips towards him. "I've missed you. I love you," she whispered in his ear.

Don groaned as he sat up and stripped off his shirt, then turned his attention to Stella. "You have far too many clothes on," he growled into her throat, his mouth following the path his hand had taken.

"Let's see what we can do about that," she grinned. And their night slowed down to two hearts beating together.

Somewhere in the night, they called the Waldorf-Astoria's renowned room service and fed each other, wrapped up in the luxurious robes provided to the guests. The night was spent sleeping in each other's arms for a time, then waking to each other's warmth and hunger again. When Don woke for the last time the sun was streaming in through the window, and Stella was curled up on the other side of the enormous bed. He rolled over to check the time; it was only 7:00, so there was no hurry to get moving.

He got out of bed and stretched, then went over to the window to look out over the city. He turned to grin at Stella, who had most of the covers pulled up to her ears, and wondered whether to wake her up. She looked so peaceful, he decided to just let her sleep as long as possible. A six-hour drive was nothing, especially with the car Danny had rented for them: a sporty little Mustang. They could leave by 10:00 and still get into Niagara before dark. He rubbed his hands briskly and thought about 5 days with no cell phones, no dead bodies, no danger. What a boring way to live, but a great way to start married life with Stella.

He put on the coffee, noting that the Waldorf-Astoria used a pretty high-class coffee blend. As soon as the water hit the grounds, the smell filled the room and he grinned. Nothing like a good cup of coffee to start the day.


	14. Chapter 14: The Oracle Speaks

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 14: The Oracle Speaks

Snuggled deeply in the bed, Stella groaned when the smell of coffee hit her. Suddenly, she rolled out of bed without even sitting up and bolted for the bathroom, making it to the sink just in time to throw up. Again and again her stomach heaved until there was nothing left, and then she threw up again. It was so hard and so fast she felt as if some huge hand was squeezing her belly.

"Stella? Stella! Are you okay? What's up?" Don had run to the bathroom as soon as Stella had moved, but she had closed the door and reflexively locked it behind her, so he was left standing on the other side of the door, trying not to panic. He could hear her vomiting, and went frantically through the events of the night before, trying to figure out what she could have eaten that was making her sick. She certainly hadn't had much to eat at the reception, and they had eaten the same stuff from Room Service the night before, and he felt fine. She couldn't be hung-over; he'd seen her drink way more than she had the night before without turning a hair the next day.

He heard the water running in the bathroom, and knocked gently on the door. "Stella, what can I do?" The door opened and she fell into his arms, tears running down her face.

"I'm sorry, Don. I must have got the 'flu. Trust me to ruin the week by getting sick." She looked at him miserably.

He put a hand under her chin and kissed her forehead, checking for fever. "Hey, don't worry. Maybe we should get you to a doctor?" Gently, he led her back to the bed, grabbing a wastepaper basket practically as they passed and putting it beside the bed. He had babysat nieces and nephews through nearly every childhood disease possible; he knew the bathroom was sometimes just too far away.

As he helped Stella back into bed and wrapped one of the robes around her shivering body, he flashed back to what Lindsay had said to him when he danced with her the night before.

"I've put together some stuff Stella may need, Don. If she isn't feeling well in the morning, check the backpack. And whatever happens, don't worry. Everything will be fine."

"Stel, where's the pack Lindsay gave you?" Don had to repeat himself when Stella looked at him blearily.

"I don't know. Did you bring it in from the car?" She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her roiling stomach again.

Don searched around the room, and finally found the bag behind the door. He carried it over to the bed and sat down beside Stella, pulling her to lean against him.

"Linds said you might need something in here, so let's see what the doc put together, okay?" He grinned at Lindsay's planning; she really had left nothing to chance.

The grin faltered when he pulled out a couple of bottles of water, a bag of Arrowroot biscuits, a package of peppermint tea, and, from the bottom of the bag, a home pregnancy test. "Stella?" His voice was a little shaky.

Stella opened her eyes. Then she opened them wider when she saw what Don was holding. "What the hell was she thinking?" Her voice went up a few octaves; then she groaned as her stomach lurched again. "Give me one of those." She reached for the biscuits.

Don felt a little light-headed himself, and grabbed a biscuit too. He'd forgotten the taste and smell of an arrowroot cookie: all his sisters had bought them by the caseload for teething babies, hungry toddlers, and, yes, "tricky tummies", as one mother-in-law referred to morning sickness.

"Could she be right?" He asked, his voice still husky, but not, he was proud to note, shaking anymore.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Stella snapped. Her stomach had relaxed a little, but the smell of the coffee was still making her uneasy. She brushed aside the thought that coffee usually made her feel alive, not sick. "No one gets pregnant like that, not after the age of about 16, anyway."

"What do you mean, pregnant like that?" Don sat back and wrapped his arms around Stella, perversely glad that she was snapping at him. A quiet passive Stella was a very worrying sight.

"You know, accidentally, without planning it. I know I went off the pill last year, but we used condoms, didn't we?"

"Not always," he grinned, having a few wild and completely inappropriate visions running though his head, "Not last night."

"Hmmm. Okay, but still, Don, this just doesn't happen to people like me."

"Why not? You are of child-bearing age, you know, and you have been sexually active – very active – and not using protection. Why couldn't this happen? What if it has?" He tightened his arms around her and tried to keep his voice from showing the sudden impossible hope that had sprung up in his heart.

She heard something though, and pulled away from him to glare indignantly into his eyes. "You are actually happy about this, aren't you?"

Don laughed at her. "Let's do the test. Then we can fight about it. If you aren't pregnant, I'm taking you to a clinic before we go anywhere."

Stella grabbed the box from the bed and huffed her way to the bathroom. "This conversation is so not over, Flack," her voice dropped as the door locked behind her.

Don sat back, his hands behind his head, grinning and absently chewing on another biscuit. His foot moved against the bag and he heard a rustle of paper. "Hey, she wrote a note. Want to hear it?" He wandered over to the bathroom door. "Need any help?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I can manage to pee on a stick all by myself," Stella grumbled. "Stupid waste of time."

Don laughed, "Hey, that's what Lindsay said. Listen to this."

_Dear Don and Stella, _

_If you are reading this, Stella is probably peeing on a stick about now and yelling at Don. Listen to me good, Stella: 5 sisters-in-law and 13 nieces and nephews later, I am not called the oracle for nothing when it comes to telling this particular fortune. If I am wrong, I owe you dinner. If I am right, name the first one after me. _

_The biscuits should help you get over the worst of things in the morning, and the tea will help too. Go see a doctor as soon as you can._

_I love you both. Be happy. Lindsay._

Stella was standing in the bathroom door when Don finished reading the short note. She shook her head when he stepped forward, "It takes 3 minutes."

She took the paper from Don and read through it, her eyes filling with tears. "When did she do this, on top of everything else? I wasn't even sick until yesterday morning. Don," she turned to him, "the paper was wet. You can see where it dried. She was crying." Stella remembered Lindsay pushing her out the door after she had changed, and sat down on the bed, her mind grasping at anything to stop from thinking about what was or was not happening in the bathroom. "She lied to me. She said they were talking, but not trying."

Don lay down beside her and pulled her down to cuddle against him. "Well, Detective Bonasera, I suspect that they have been trying." He thought again about Danny watching the kids in the playground, not that they had talked about it. He also remembered the look in Danny's eyes when he watched his wife walk down the aisle. He sighed. It looked like the older he got, the more he was going to have practice this "talking" thing.

"Has it been three minutes yet?"

"I put the microwave timer on."

"However will we pass the time?"

"Practicing in case Lindsay is wrong?" He kissed the smirk off her face just as the timer went off.

"Okay," she breathed, "let's see you eat your words, Miss Oracle."

Don grabbed her hand as she moved off the bed. "We do this together."

It was Don who reached for the little plastic wand, Don who looked at it; Stella had her eyes closed. He took a careful look, then kissed her gently.

"Negative?" Her voice was calm, and he kissed her again. Her voice rose a little. "Positive?" He kissed her one more time. Her eyes flew open. "Dammit, Flack!" She grabbed the test stick from him, and then she screamed.

He laughed like a loon and swung her back out into the room and around, kissing her until she smacked him lightly on the shoulder. "Getting dizzy here, Flack. You are going to end up wearing that biscuit!"

He stopped at the bed and fell on it, Stella still wrapped in his arms, landing on top of him. She looked into his eyes, then kissed him deeply.

"Should I even ask what you think about this?" Her voice was quiet.

He sobered instantly, "Stella, is it … is it okay? Aren't you happy?"

She tried, she really did, but she couldn't help it: she could feel the smile growing until she nearly exploded with it. "We're going to have a baby," she crooned, and wrapped one arm around Don's neck while curling her other arm over her stomach.

He flipped her on her back and put his hand over hers; then he pushed aside the robe and put his head on her flat belly. "Hello, baby. Welcome to the family."


	15. Chapter 15: Going Front Page

_A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers for your questions and ideas – I enjoy reading your speculations._

_Rating: The story will move to an M rating for some language and sexual scenes, plus frank discussion of issues which may be uncomfortable for some readers._

_Disclaimer: Not only do I not own these characters, I don't even control what they do in my stories. I think they have taken on a life of their own. Anything you recognize, thank the creative team at CSB and CSI:NY._

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 15: Going Front Page

Lindsay woke up the day after Don and Stella's wedding still wrapped in Danny's arms. She thought back over the previous day, and sighed. It was going to feel a little flat at work for the next little while; she and Stella had been knee-deep in first her own plans, then Stella's, for over four months.

"Oh, well," Lindsay thought, a little bitterly, "I suppose it will all be baby talk now." She had no doubt she was right about Stella being pregnant; she wasn't kidding about the "oracle" nickname, either. She had predicted every one of her nieces and nephews by sex, birth weight, and time of day – at least, the ones who had been born before three years ago. She didn't even know for sure how many grandchildren her father had now.

"Don't even go there, girl," she scolded herself. "You have to accept your losses, and hold onto what you've gained." She snuggled a little closer to Danny, rubbing a hand lovingly over his chest and down his flat stomach. Even in his sleep, he reacted to her touch, sucking in his breath and tightening his muscles as she stroked him.

With a mischievous grin, she followed the trail of her hand with her tongue, tasting the familiar, enticing essence of him. He moaned as her mouth stopped at his belly, then his breath stopped altogether as her hands reached below to make sure he was waking up thoroughly. She licked her lips, then laid her mouth on him.

"Lindsay!" He gasped as he came fully awake and fully aroused at once. "God, Lindsay." He wrapped his hands in her hair and coaxed her mouth back up to his so he could kiss her.

"Good thing you got the name right, Messer," she whispered.

"Only room for one person in my head, Montana. Only one thought, too," he answered her as he rolled her onto her back and proceeded to explore her as completely as she had him.

They were so involved they didn't hear the phone ring in the living room. On the other end of the phone, the caller hung up when the machine came on.

"Are you ready for some breakfast?" Lindsay asked idly when she had got her breath back somewhat. It was a wonderful way to wake up, but she was always starving afterwards.

"Hmm. Let's go down to the diner though; that way I don't have to wash dishes." Danny said lazily holding her close. For a man who a few years ago had thought 'cuddling' was a waste of a golden opportunity, he certainly had become a convert.

"Okay. Do you want to join me in the shower?" She said with a grin.

"How much time do we have before I have to be on shift?" Danny looked at his watch, squinting to try and bring it into focus without his glasses on.

"Enough time to have a shower together and eat breakfast, I promise." The last thing Lindsay wanted to admit to Danny was that she had woken him at 6:30 on a morning he didn't need to go into work. She'd have to think of a way to make it up to him – again. She laughed to herself.

She was already in the bathroom when she heard him growl, "Dammit all, Montana. 6:30? Half past 6 in the effing morning?"

Yes, she thought, she'd better think of a very nice way to make it up to him!

He certainly didn't seem to have any complaints left after the shower.

Somewhat surprisingly, they met Hawkes at the diner where they usually had breakfast with Flack when they were all on the same shift.

"Hey guys. Didn't you get called in?" Hawkes greeted them.

Danny looked at the CSI quizzically, "How come? I'm not on until 4:00, and Linds is off today. Is there something big up?"

Hawkes sighed a little wearily. He was at the end of his shift, having gone straight from the reception to the lab. "When isn't there something big up? This is New York. Some beat cops found a couple of bodies in a dumpster about 8 blocks from here. Didn't you get called?"

Danny grabbed his cell phone and looked at it in disbelief. "The battery's dead."

"I wonder how that could have happened," Hawkes said wryly.

"Shit. Mac's going to kill me if he's been trying to call me in. Linds, could I borrow your phone, please? I better check." While Danny dialed, Lindsay looked around for the waitress to ask for the cheque.

"He's not answering," Danny said. "I'm getting bounced to his voice mail. That's weird; Mac nearly always answers his phone."

Lindsay had paid the cheque by this time, and stood up, shrugging her jacket on and grabbing her purse. "Come on. Let's just go in and see if they need us. It'll be faster than playing phone tag."

Danny put his hand over hers where she was leaning on the table. "You don't need to come in, hon. You're supposed be to be off today."

"I'm fine, Danny. I'd rather go in now than go home and start something else, then get called in." She smiled down at him. "I'm fine," she said quietly and insistently.

Hawkes turned away when he noticed the momentary tension between the two. He was, in his quiet way, as observant as Mac, and much more emotionally attuned to the people he worked with. Fond of both of them, he couldn't help wondering what was disturbing this newly married couple already.

"By the way, you have a message, Linds," Danny handed back the phone, his fingers lingering on hers in a silent apology. She smiled at him in easy forgiveness and checked the message.

Hawkes had gone to pay his cheque and chat with the waitress, but couldn't help watching the couple by the table. He saw Lindsay listening to the message, then closing her eyes, trying in vain to keep from crying. He watched Danny pulling her into his arms soothingly, whispering in her ear, and kissing her tenderly.

By the time they met up with Hawkes outside the diner, Lindsay seemed okay, though Danny was hovering a bit, his hand protectively on the small of her back. Tactfully, Hawkes pretended he had seen nothing, and tacitly, the Messers pretended there had been nothing to see. Hawkes told them the rest of what he knew about the case, then went off home to try to get some sleep before being called in again.

When they got to the lab, Danny went to look for Mac to check in, while Lindsay went to the lab to see what work needed to be done. She took over testing the clothing the two boys had been wearing when they were dumped. She read through the file as she waited for some results. The unidentified boys had been about 12 years old, both Caucasian. The cause of death had not been determined yet by Sid Hammerback. Lindsay was on her way to see him to get whatever information had been established when she literally ran into Danny.

Absently, he grabbed her to keep her from falling over, then rubbed his hands up and down her arms as he spoke.

"Mac isn't in his office, and he still isn't answering his phone. He was in the field when Hawkes was coming off shift, but that's well over an hour ago now. Where is he?"

"I don't know. No one up here has seen him. I'm going down to talk to Sid; come with me."

The two CSIs went to talk to Sid, who could tell them that the boys had died within minutes of each other, that both had signs of petichial hemorrhaging, that neither had been sexually assaulted, and that both appeared well-fed and well-cared for until recently. There were marks on their necks which might indicate strangulation, but they did not appear to be deep enough. Neither had eaten for approximately six hours before they died. Tox and drug screens were not yet back.

"So, we could be looking for runaways. I'll check with Missing Persons: see how far they've got," Danny said. "We can take pictures to the bus station and see if either of them came in to town that way. Anything from the clothes, yet, Linds?"

"Nothing I wouldn't expect to see yet – mostly garbage residue. I'm still looking."

"Where the hell is Mac and why isn't he answering his phone?" Danny groused.

"He's right here, Messer, and I had my phone turned off." Mac's quiet voice came from the doorway in which he had appeared.

Danny jumped, "Dammit, how do you DO that? Sure you were a Marine and not a spook?"

"I was called to the Chief's office. This case is about to go front-page. I tried calling you in a couple of hours ago, Danny. Lindsay, you didn't have to come in." Mac smiled at her.

"Yeah, sorry Mac, little technical problem," Danny muttered as Lindsay smiled and said, "It's okay; I'm here now."

"Okay, briefing in my office in half an hour; bring what you've got and all your stamina – you're going to need it." Mac turned to go upstairs, calling back over his shoulder, "Messer, go charge your phone battery."

"How does he DO that?" Danny repeated, baffled.

Lindsay and Sid couldn't quite hide their grins.


	16. Chapter 16: High Profile

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 16: High-Profile

Mac closed the door to his office when the team had assembled. It was a smaller group than usual, missing Stella and Hawkes, who had already worked through the night. Mac knew he might have to call him in early, but for now, he decided to let him sleep. A couple of CSIs from other shifts had been called in to fill out the teams.

"Okay. The boys have been identified: Drake Connelly and Tyson Black."

"Connelly as in Steven Connelly, MAYOR Connelly?" Danny sat back in his chair and whistled. "No wonder you got called in."

Mac nodded briefly. "The Mayor's nephew, yes. This will be hitting the news within minutes: the bloggers already have it on the 'net and the mainstream media will be right behind. So we need to contain and control the flow of information. I'll be calling Hawkes and warning him not to talk to anyone – let's hope HIS phone is charged – and the rest of you are basically on lockdown until we sort this out."

Danny had rolled his eyes at the phone gibe, but sat up when Mac finished his statement, opening his mouth to plead that Lindsay at least be let off. Then he looked at the steel in Mac's eyes, the seriously depleted team in the room, and just sat back, closing his mouth and shaking his head.

"Finally," Mac thought with some amusement, "Danny Messer learns a lesson – shutting up is sometimes the best course of action."

"What do we know about the other boy, Mac?" Lindsay asked, taking out her notebook and beginning to make notes.

"According to the Mayor, who is not the most reliable source we could hope for, Drake went to school with Tyson: High Cross Secondary School. They were not friends until this last week or so. The Connellys were not completely happy about this new friendship; it seems that the Blacks were not the right 'kind of people' for the son of a Connelly."

Danny rolled his eyes again, this time at the common social snobbery he had spent most of his life pushing against. "So, how'd they meet?"

"In a gamers' club at school."

"Like gambling?" one of the other CSIs, Detective Jessie Michaels, asked.

"Naw," Danny answered, "Like Halo or GTA."

"Right," Mac agreed. "The school has a computer lab available to students at lunch and after school. Some of them stay until 8:00 or 9:00 at night, according to the Mayor. Parents are happy because the kids are supervised."

"Kids are happy because they _aren't_ supervised," Danny interjected.

"What makes you think so?" Jessie asked again.

"No kid would stay at school voluntarily unless there was less supervision than they would have home, or unless something else was on offer," Danny stated.

"So, Danny, go see the school. It's a pretty upscale one, so be … your usual charming self, okay?" Mac didn't even crack a smile as he sent his most abrasive detective into the schoolrooms of the elite.

"Do you think it happened at the school, Mac?" Lindsay asked. "The dump site was a good 15 blocks away – they couldn't have moved them easily."

"So, Lindsay and Adam, you go back to the clothes and see if you can find any trace – fibres, anything – which might explain where they were when they died and how they got from one place to the other." Mac sighed. "I'll go interview the families. Detective Michaels, you're with me." He quickly gave out the rest of the assignments and then cautioned, "Remember, don't speak to anyone about the investigation. Everything remains in this office. Nothing gets out."

The teams nodded and dispersed. Lindsay lingered a moment. "Mac, you aren't going to call Flack and Stella back in, are you?"

"Let's clear this up quickly, and we won't have to, okay, Linds?" He smiled at her, and then said, "I am sorry about your day off, though. You deserved it after yesterday. Everything was beautiful."

Lindsay returned his smile, "It was, wasn't it? I can't take any credit for it though – it was all Stella. Oh well, it was worth it, and I'm sure I'll get another turn at a week off someday! I'll get back to the lab."

"Let me know if you find anything, okay?"

"You'll be the first to know," she promised.

Mac watched her walking down the hallway. The sad worried look was back in her eyes, the one he had been surprised to see the day before. Still, it was a troubling case, and she couldn't have slept much. Once again, he shrugged off his concern.

Danny was waiting for her in the lab. "You okay?"

"Of course. Danny, you are going to send me round the twist if you keep this up. I am fine. I will tell you when I am not fine; then you can treat me like a pathetic little girl, okay?" Lindsay was not quite as annoyed as she sounded; it had been a long time since anyone had looked at her with that much love and concern. Still, she had to work and so did he, and neither of them could function at this level of constant fussing.

Danny snaked an arm around her and stole a kiss while she was still protesting. "I am trusting you to tell me if you need anything, okay? Don't let me down again." He said it softly, but seriously. He needed to know that this time she would trust him with her feelings.

She rested her head against his chest for a moment. "I won't let you down again, Danny," she promised softly.

"Okay, then. Now one more kiss to keep me going without you." His lips captured hers, and the hand which she had put up to stop him softened and then clutched against him as he kissed her slowly and thoroughly. When he stepped away, her eyes were soft and bright, and his were glittering a little dangerously. "I'll see you later, Montana," he said softly.

"Yeah, that's a promise, Messer," she answered breathlessly.

A few hours later, Danny was sitting in Mac's office, seething with frustration. "Goddammit, I hate it when people are polite to me, while refusing to do what I tell them to. It's so condescending. I'd been there about an hour before every question was being bounced through the lawyers: the school has a team of three lawyers! There's definitely something going on there, Mac."

"Lay it out, Danny," Mac was learning to trust other people's instincts, and Danny had a bullshit-meter second to none.

"Okay. The gamers' club is all boys, average age about 15. The 'club mentor' is a young guy, maybe 24: Chris Smart. He's an 'Old Boy': graduated 6 years ago, and volunteers at the school. These two boys were pretty new, had only been coming about two months, since the start of the school year. They did show up together, so maybe the Connellys didn't know their son's friends as well as they thought." Danny looked up to see Mac nodding, unsurprised by the news.

"Smart says they were quiet, a little shy, but starting to get into the tournaments and so on. Thing is, Smart also told me that all the kids have to out of the school by 6:00, some union rule for the janitors. When I told him the parents were under the impression that the kids were supervised until 8 or 9 at night, he definitely shifted, Mac. He knew something or had lied about something, I know it."

"Okay. The Connellys wouldn't say much: they claimed to be too broken up to talk, and sent me to the Mayor's office for any further information."

Danny rolled his eyes again.

Mac went on, "I talked to the Blacks. Tyson told them he had been invited to stay at the Connellys' Friday night. As far as they knew, he was staying the weekend, so they didn't worry when he didn't show up Saturday morning. When he didn't show up or get in touch by last night, though, they started to worry and called the Connellys. I get the feeling from Mr. Black that the reception he got on the phone was not exactly a kindly one. Connelly told him that Tyson had not been near their place and that Drake was staying with another, more acceptable friend for the weekend."

Mac rubbed his eyes; the Black family had been devastated by the loss of their son, while the Connellys had seemed more upset by the threat to their reputation.

"So the boys lied to their parents about where they were going to be, but didn't set up cover stories. If they had planned on being gone longer than Saturday night, they would have had a story to cover it."

"Let's talk to the kid who provided the first cover story for Drake, and go from there."

"I think we need a warrant for the gamers' room in the school, Mac, maybe Smart's apartment, too? Whatever happened to the boys, I'm betting it started there." Danny wanted to get Lindsay home, but he knew that no one was leaving here until this case was closed. They had a commitment to the two young boys whose lives had been worth so little that they had ended up in the trash. Their deaths would be treated with more respect.


	17. Chapter 17: Winter Festival of Lights

_A/N: Again, thanks to those who reviewed and passed on some interesting ideas about those mysterious hang-ups._

_Disclaimer: Characters are property of CBS. Situations are mine._

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 17: Winter Festival of Lights

Before they left the Waldorf-Astoria, Stella phoned Lindsay's cell and left her a short message: "Miss Oracle, you did everything right. Bless you."

The drive north was beautiful; the leaves were a riot of fall colours and every corner brought a new sight worth seeing. It was warm enough that Don put the top down after they stopped for something to eat in Pittsford. Having left New York in good time, they arrived in at the border crossing between the States and Canada.

Stella had never crossed the border before, and had heard enough about new regulations and issues that she was a little nervous. At the American crossing, the guard asked a few questions, and checked their IDs. When he found out they were both NYPD, he saluted and waved them through.

At the Canadian side, the young girl on the gate greeted them with a grin, a breezy "Bonjour! Bienvenue a Canada!" and a friendly inquiry about the nature of their visit, then added with a twinkle, "I bet you're newlyweds, aren't you?"

Don flushed, but smiled back and said, "How did you know?"

"Well," she said, "There really is a certain look newlyweds have. I guess after a few years on this gate, you get to recognize it, eh? Have a lovely time in Canada! If you are looking for an interesting place to eat in Niagara, try 'Beam Me Up Scotties'; I hear it's pretty wild." She waved to them as they drove through into Canada.

Using the map Lindsay had put in Stella's package, but Danny had inexplicably forgotten in Don's, they found the Embassy Suites hotel, just 100 metres from the Falls. By the time they got up to their room, this time with considerably more luggage than they had bothered with the night before, Stella was drooping.

"Why don't you have a nap?" Don suggested.

"That's romantic!" Stella groaned, as she stripped off her jeans and sweatshirt and curled up on the bed.

He sat down beside her and stroked a hand down her back. "I have the next fifty years or more to have romantic moments with you, lady. Missing a few hours today will not define our life."

"I'll only lie down if you do, okay?" Stella fell asleep with a smile on her face, with Don beside her.

When he was sure she was asleep, Don got up carefully and scribbled a note, "Gone exploring – back soon. Love you, D." He let himself out of the room quietly.

He went down to the lobby to collect some information about tours, restaurants, and things to do in Niagara Falls, Ontario. He had never had a vacation like this one: nothing to do but wander around and look at things.

His dad had not taken much holiday time; if he had more than a week off at a time, he had piled the whole family into the station wagon and they had gone on a road trip. They would drive three days one way for twelve to fourteen hours a day, spend one day wherever they had ended up, then spend another three days getting home. All Don could remember was hours of being tortured by three older sisters, waiting for his dad to agree to pull over for a pit stop. Holidays had not been greatly anticipated in the Flack household. As each daughter went off to school or got married and out of the house, the trips had become longer until Don was the only one left. He started working after school and on weekends at fifteen just to avoid family road trips.

This week was a whole new concept to Don, and he suspected to Stella too, so he was determined to do the thing right. He went and talked to the little blond on the desk and asked for recommendations about places to eat and the best attractions to go see. He figured with five days and nights, they could hit at least three things a day, plus eat, plus give Stella time to shop, as the lower Canadian dollar made that worthwhile. He knew his Stella too; shopping was more than a hobby for her, it was therapy. After this morning's news, she just might need it.

He wanted to go for a quick walk around the hotel, but he knew if he didn't wait for Stella to see the Falls together for the first time, she would never forgive him, so he went back to the room with handfuls of pamphlets and a notebook full of information Chelsea on the desk had given him. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he had interrogated her, although she seemed not to have minded much, if her smiles and hair tossing had been any clue.

When he let himself in, he glanced over at the bed and saw Stella still sleeping, so he decided to have a shower. Clean and wrapped in a towel, he lay down beside her again, wrapping his arms around her. She murmured and turned into him, sliding one leg between his and raising her mouth to his. "Don," she whispered, her breath fanning across his lips.

His reaction was immediate and intense, but he moved slowly, teasing her until she was awake and crazy for him. He refused to speed up, preferring to torment her with hands and tongue until she rolled him over and lowered herself onto him, gasping as he filled her. He groaned as she surrounded him and began to move. His hands reached for her hips, then roamed up her body to caress her breasts. When he sat up to kiss her, she came hard, which set him off in turn. They sat, twined together and trying to steady their breathing for a few minutes, hands still stroking and touching as they calmed down.

"So," she finally said. "Is that going to be as good in fifty years?"

"Better. We'll have all that practice!" His grin lit up his face.

She laughed and kissed him, then reluctantly stood up and went into the bathroom. He relaxed back against the headboard of the bed and took a couple of deep breaths. Would he ever get over wanting her like that? He hoped not.

He heard the bathtub filling, and then Stella's squeal as she turned on the Jacuzzi. He wandered over to the bathroom and watched her from the doorway. She was neck deep in bubbles, her eyes closed and a blissful look on her face. Feeling his eyes on her, she beckoned him closer, and took his hand when he sat on the edge of the tub. "Why don't you join me?"

He looked at the tub in some doubt. "I don't know, Stella. I'm not sure we'll both fit."

"Come on, Don, I'm not that fat yet. We can make room. And it feels great." Stella smiled, her eyes gleaming wickedly.

He had to admit she was right. She felt even better.

When they finally began to dress for dinner, it was late in the evening, too late to try out some of the more exotic restaurants around, so they went downstairs to the hotel dining room, which was a Keg Steakhouse. Don ordered a thick New York cut steak, which made Stella laugh, while she ordered the seafood special, which was Atlantic crab flown in that day from the Maritimes. Don's sufferings as she sucked crabmeat out of the shell and licked her fingers were not in the least mitigated by the fact that he had just had mind-blowing sex twice in as many hours.

They sat at the window, overlooking the falls, which were unbelievably big, and lit up in impossible colours. A fire roared in the fire pit beside their table, and they shared kalamari for an appetizer, and the famous Keg Mud Pie for dessert. Don drank wine, a deep red Yellow Tail Shiraz from Australia, while Stella contented herself with ginger ale.

They ate and talked. Don told her about Chelsea and her suggestions for things to do; Stella accused him of flirting with the poor little girl and gave him a few suggestions of her own, some of which made his ears burn. It was as beautiful a night as they could hope for, and when they had finished eating, they walked down the pathway to stand by the mighty falls and marvel at the speed and power. Don held Stella in his arms, his hands lightly covering her belly, and thanked God, or something, for these two great gifts in his life: Stella, who had married him, and the baby, who would complete them.

The first burst of sparks took them by surprise, but then they relaxed and watched the fireworks bursting over the falls, enjoying the show. By the time it was over, Stella was beginning to shiver in the cooling night air, and so they wandered back to their room, from which they could watch the whole show the next day if they chose. They cuddled up in bed together, and fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.


	18. Chapter 18: A Long Day's Night

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 18: A Long Day's Night

"I was right," Danny said, smacking the autopsy results down on Mac's desk. "It was Smart."

"Yes, you're very smart, Danny; is that what you need to hear?" Lindsay cracked back.

"Ha ha. Chris Smart, the mentor. He was mentoring them all right. He had a Strangling Game going on for his little gamer-boys."

Mac looked up from the file he had glanced through. "A Strangling Game?"

"Yeah – it's a sex thing. Appeals especially to young boys just hitting puberty, but it's getting pretty common in other settings too. Ya remember in the Casey case, Mac? The first victim had been strangled during sex? The loss of oxygen enhances the sexual hit."

Members of the team nodded. Sexual strangulation was in the news more often, and every new story seemed to result in more kids experimenting.

"Anyway, Smart added a wrinkle. Seems after the official games were ended, the gang would go to his place. He had beer and pot – both boys tested positive in tox – then they'd do this dog pile thing, where they'd jerk off and strangle each other, using something thin…"

Lindsay interrupted, "We think it might have the school lanyards; the kids are all given one when they enter the school with their locker keys. There was some dye in Tyson's wound, which we're running through Trace now."

Danny nodded and continued, "Anyway, it sounds like a totally wild scene. One of the boys gave up enough info for us to piece some things together. These two boys were pretty small. I guess they got to the bottom of the pile and couldn't protect themselves. One, Tyson, Sid confirmed that he was actually strangled – his windpipe was crushed. There was a bruise on his back that could have been from keys."

Lindsay jumped in again. "The lanyard may have been caught behind him. He couldn't move with the others on top of him, and couldn't control the strangling."

Danny had been flipping through his notes as she spoke. "Drake, he suffocated: a combination of the strangulation and the weight of the guys on top of him." Danny cleared his throat. Of all stupid ways to die, this one took the cake.

"The clothes tested positive for semen: multiple donors. The one donor I didn't find was Chris Smart. He does have priors, though, for inappropriate touching and sexual assault. Both as a juvenile; nothing for the past four years." Lindsay added. "The school must have known; both offenses took place at the school when he was a senior."

"His place is only a block from the dumpster. We found sheets in his laundry that had biologicals from both boys. He must have wrapped them up and carried them." Danny continued.

"He'd've had help. Any ideas who?"

"Fingerprints on the sheet – hard to bring up, but enough to give us reasonable cause to haul in two of the older boys for more specific questioning. One of them is the younger brother of Smart's best friend from school, so there's a connection there. The other is the one who gave up the game; he may be ready to crack if we offer the lawyer the right deal." Lindsay completed the report.

"Sounds good. We can leave it up to the DA to decide the charges: reckless endangerment springs to mind."

"Along with lots of other things," Danny muttered.

"Good work, team. Once the paper work is finished, take off." Mac nodded to the CSIs and lab workers who had worked round the clock to get this case wrapped up. His job was far from over: he still had to face the families, the mayor, and the press. This story had all the elements of a three-ring circus: sex, wealth, and cover-up. The next few days were going to be hell.

Lindsay got to the locker room before Danny, who was called back to Mac's office to answer another question before Mac went to report to the Chief. She sat on the bench wearily, waiting for her husband to join her.

Her husband. How weird did that still sound? Danny Messer, player, bad boy, the ultimate New Yorker, married to the country mouse from Montana. She still had trouble with the whole picture. She closed her eyes and put her head back, letting her mind wander.

Of course, as soon as she let go of the rigid control she had kept at work, the message from Stella flashed back into her head. "Miss Oracle, you did everything right. Bless you." She shouldn't have cried; she should have been happy for Don and Stella. A friend would have been uncomplicatedly happy. And she was happy for them, really she was. She just wanted what they had.

She shook her head a little violently. She had so much, more than she could ever have imagined when she had left Montana, irreparably separated from her family, facing the challenges of making it on her own without any help from her formidable father or protective brothers. And she had; she'd done it. She'd made a life for herself, and a career, made friends, and found Danny.

She sensed he was there before he said a word, standing at the door watching her. She put a smile on her face and then looked up at him, reaching out a hand to him. "Ready to go home?" She asked quietly.

He pulled her into his arms and gave her a hug, rubbing his hand down the length of her back in that possessive way he had. It always made her feel protected for some reason, even though it should have driven her crazy. "How in love are you?" She scolded herself with a bit of a laugh.

"Come on. Let's see if we can find a cab." Danny was having a little trouble seeing straight himself: too little sleep and too much staring into microscopes and at inconclusive results, only to find the saddest and most sordid of answers. Some days, he really hated his job.

They sat in the cab silently, hands entwined, Lindsay's head resting on his shoulder. Danny couldn't remember the last time he ate; Lindsay couldn't remember whether there was any food in the apartment. When the cab stopped in front of their building, it took a moment for either to realize it. Danny tossed a bill at the driver and went around the cab to open Lindsay's door and help her out. They made it to their apartment by leaning a little on each other. Danny wanted to just pick her up and carry her, as he had the last time they had come home – 36 hours ago – but he was too tired.

"Are you hungry?" He murmured in her ear as they went through the door.

"Hmmm. Starving. Too tired to eat though." She yawned and dropped her shoes, jacket and purse on the floor.

"'Kay. Let's sleep and eat when we wake up." Danny leaned against the wall and dozed off.

Lindsay turned around when she realized he wasn't beside her any more, and giggled. "Come on, smartie." She tugged his arm until he began to move again and they made it to the bedroom. She pushed him over onto the bed, pulled his shoes off and grabbed the extra quilt from the bottom of the bed to pull over them. Within minutes they were together on the bed, fully clothed and deeply asleep.

In the living room, the phone began to ring: once, twice, three times. When the machine turned on, the phone clicked off.


	19. Chapter 19: Honeymoon Capital

_A/N: Sorry the updates are late; it was a busy weekend. I'm also sorry that this story has burst the bounds of reasonability – it just may go on forever. I only hope people keep enjoying it; reviews would reassure me!_

_Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, although I suspect CBS and the creators of CSI:NY no longer have them under their complete control either._

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 19: Honeymoon Capital of the World

Stella woke up and gingerly rolled over to grab an Arrowroot biscuit. She'd found that if she ate a couple as soon as her eyes opened, she was a little less likely to throw up, as long as Don didn't forget and accidentally make coffee in the morning.

Chewing on the cookie, she rolled onto her back and looked out the window at the amazing view. Although the hotel was 42 stories high, they were only on the 18th floor, which gave them a wonderful view of the falls every day. One night, they had stayed in to watch the fireworks display which happened each evening; it was an odd perspective to look down on such a show.

Stella stretched cautiously. Don was already gone; he had taken to sneaking out early in the morning to grab coffee at the local Tim Horton's. He had come back the first morning with his eyes bugging out. "They actually line up at this place before it opens, Stel. I could hear people talking; it sounded like they were all from Ireland or something."

He had asked Chelsea, his guide to all things Canadian, about it, and she had explained most of the people waiting were from Newfoundland or one of the other Maritime provinces. "They do love their Timmy's out there," she had said, and for the first time Don had recognized a touch of the same lilt in her voice. Blushing, she had confessed to having grown up in Conception Bay, Newfoundland. Don had shared all this information with Stella the second morning they had arrived in Niagara.

Stella giggled as she pulled the covers back up to her chin. Don had no idea what a devastating effect he was having on Chelsea, but Stella had to ward off the Evil Eye every time she passed the front desk. The situation would upset her if he had any clue, but she knew he would be honestly shocked at the suggestion he was flirting with the 20-something. He couldn't really help it; he was that attractive, and he was interested enough in people that he listened intently: a killer combination.

She rolled out of bed. As long as she moved a bit slowly first thing, she could keep her stomach under control, usually. She had embarrassed herself horribly one night at dinner when a smell caught her off guard; who would have thought that lettuce could cause someone to retch like that? She had made it to the restaurant's washroom, just, but Don had been too nervous to enjoy his dinner after that. They had ended up back in the hotel, ordering room service.

Other than that, they hadn't done too badly. Don's original estimate of three attractions a day had been a little ambitious, but they had seen and done a lot: taken in the Cirque Niagara show, Avaia, at the Celestial Place Tent; gone to the Ripley's Believe it or Not! Museum as well as the Tussaud's Wax Museum to see the Murderers of History exhibit (Stella disgraced herself rather badly by first chuckling at the more gruesome ones and then correcting inaccuracies in a loud voice). Today was their last day and they were going to do the requisite Maid of the Mists boat trip to the Falls.

Stella stood at the window, looking out over the falls and the hills covered in the bright colours of the fall leaves. They had done those touristy things, which had been fun, including spending an evening at the Midway, but the week had been memorable for the quiet times driving through the country-side, and eating at little out of the way restaurants.

She laughed a little under her breath. She had known she was in love with Don when she lost her breath every time he touched her. Before they had started seeing each other, she had known she liked him as a friend. This week, the two of them had spent so much time together, she was relieved to find out she both loved him and liked him.

She thought back to Lindsay the day she came back to work after her honeymoon, when she said it was magic except when Danny was driving her nuts. Stella laughed again; that was the difference between Danny and Don. Don could be intense and focused, but he didn't thrive on drama the way Danny did. That was more Stella's area of expertise.

Suddenly, fiercely, she missed Lindsay and Danny and all the people at the lab. This time away with Don had been a dream, but it was time to go back to work. She grabbed her phone and dialed Lindsay's cell number.

"Messer, Detective Lindsay." Lindsay's crisp, no-nonsense voice came over the phone.

"Hey, Linds. How's New York doing without us?" Stella found her voice was a little husky.

"Stella! How's Niagara? How are you feeling? Is Don there? Everything is okay, isn't it?" Lindsay's cool work voice disappeared into an excited rush of words.

Stella laughed, "Slow down! Everything has been … magic, Lindsay. Thank you so much. Niagara is beautiful, Don is out charming the natives, and I am feeling okay."

"Did you go see a doctor, Stel? Is everything good?"

Stella thought back to the doctor they had seen the second day they had been in Canada. Don had insisted on getting her to a clinic to make sure she was all right.

"Well, Ms. Flack," the doctor had said after doing a quick urine test and abdominal exam, "You are about eight weeks pregnant. You're in great health, and everything checks out fine: blood pressure and iron levels look good. Due date is roughly May 15. An ultrasound in a few weeks will give a more accurate date. Do you have questions, you or Mr. Flack?"

"How big is the baby?" Don had asked, his voice hushed.

The doctor had taken Don's hand and pointed to his thumbnail, then looked into his stunned eyes. "About that size," she'd smiled.

Stella laughed, "All good, Dr. Messer. I saw a doctor here three days ago: I'm eight weeks and the doctor is in love with Don. I think she has to get in line though; the front desk girl wants my head on a platter as well."

"Canadian Invasion by Don Flack? Somehow I'm not surprised!" Lindsay tried to relax and keep focused; she was on the subway and it was pretty noisy.

"We're coming home tomorrow. I just missed you." Stella's voice shook for a minute, then steadied. "Lindsay, are you okay?"

Lindsay closed her eyes, one finger still plugging her ear so that she could hear Stella. "I'm fine, Stel. We'll talk when you get back, okay? We're going underground – I'm going to lose you. See you tomorrow."

Stella was left with the dial tone ringing in her ears. As she closed her phone, Don came through the door.

"You ready to go, Stella? First boat leaves at quarter to ten."

She turned and smiled, and said, "Give me a couple minutes, okay?"


	20. Chapter 20: Finding Normal

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 20: Finding Normal

With Stella and Don back from Niagara, the lab got back to normal. Cases were worked and posted, solved or not solved. Shifts were long and busy, or long and slow. People died and were murdered, lived and were charged. Court cases were fought and won or lost. Every day, they followed the evidence to see where it took them. Mac could look out over the lab and see a busy, productive, and above all efficient workplace.

Stella's pregnancy was proceeding, according to all the books and experts she and Don kept referencing, normally. She spent the first month after the honeymoon throwing up and sleeping, and the next two months in a whirl of activity, with twice as much as her usual energy. Seeing as that corresponded with Christmas time in New York, the lab and detective teams were pulled into her wild orbit.

The whole season was an intense round of activity: watching the lighting of the tree at Rockefeller Centre, then going skating at the rink. Lindsay was a natural; Don and Danny started an impromptu game of shinny, bribing a couple of kids with hot chocolate for the loan of their sticks. They spent one evening at the Bronx Zoo for the light display, but lost Danny and Lindsay, who were found after a lengthy absence making out in front out the tiger cage. Every evening she could find one or two people off shift, Stella dragged them out to some place or event to share the holiday spirit. And then there were shopping odysseys which could go for hours.

Stella even coaxed them all out carol singing one night, pushing songbooks and holiday cheer on them indiscriminately. It went better than anyone would have predicted, actually. No one was surprised that Mac and Danny could harmonize, given their performance at Don's bachelor party, but Sid's mellow tenor blended nicely with Hawkes' clear voice, Don's deep bass, Lindsay's quiet soprano, and Stella's rich alto. They were a credit to the city, according to the mayor, whose office was only one of the ones they serenaded.

Stella's svelte figure was only now, five months on, starting to change. She had proudly told Lindsay the day she could no longer do up her jeans, although no one else could tell that she was pregnant.

Lindsay and Danny had agreed to keep quiet about the pregnancy, although Danny had complained bitterly that he was being kept from making a killing on the baby pool. Stella had laughed and said, "Hey, you don't get any sympathy from me on the pools issue!"

When Stella had tried to ask Lindsay about their own entry into the pool, she had simply smiled and deflected the question. Stella would have pushed harder, but the look in Danny's eyes had her swallowing her words. She hoped that Lindsay would talk when she was ready.

Between the work at the lab, Christmas celebrations, and trying to keep ever-curious and devious CSIs from figuring out Stella's secret, time seemed to fly by. Although Mac tried to keep Danny and Lindsay on the same shifts, it didn't always work, and sometimes they would only see each for a quick meal at the diner, or perhaps a few hours at home together. On New Year's Eve, they were finally going to have a day off at the same time, and Danny was trying to plan a perfect New York celebration for Lindsay. It wouldn't be her first, but last year, she had worked New Year's and been called in to a particularly ugly case at a high society party. This year, Danny wanted everything to go right.

He'd already turned down Mac and Peyton, Don and Stella, and his own parents, all of whom had invited the Messers to join them in. He had it all planned out: a picnic dinner to take to Times Square, where they would watch the ball drop and celebrate with New York, because his Montana was a New Yorker now. He hadn't gone to Times Square since he was 17, and could no longer remember even the name of the girl he had taken so that he could kiss her and maybe get her high enough to give in to more. This evening would be nothing like that one, he promised himself. This was him, and Lindsay, and the New York he loved, all wrapped up in a big bow.

He was in the apartment, waiting for her to get home. The basket was all packed with her favorite finger foods and a couple of splits of highly contraband champagne. He was finishing up dinner, which they would eat early before going down to the Square to stake out a place. Just as he heard her key in the lock, the phone rang, and he heard her pick it up as she came through the living room.

"Hello?" Danny had had to train her not to answer "Messer residence," as she had at home in Montana, pointing out that in the big city, the last thing you wanted was people to know who you were.

"Hello?" She said again, "Is anyone there?" A moment later, she came through the kitchen door, breathing in the tantalizing smell of rich pasta sauce and garlic bread. "You cooked? Wasn't it my turn?"

Danny turned and wrapped her in his arms. "Not tonight. Tonight, I'm giving you your last Christmas present for 2006." He kissed her warmly, and she responded with a tight hug.

"You don't have to do that, you know," she smiled into his eyes. "I have everything I want already."

"Yeah, well, tonight you'll just have to accept a little more. Come on, we have to eat – we have a busy night ahead." He led her to the table and served her a plate of steaming home-made pasta with a tomato sauce that nearly danced its way across the plate, it was so lively.

"So, who was on the phone?" He asked casually as he set his own heaped plate on the table.

She wrinkled her brow in confusion. "No one. At least, no one spoke. Then I heard the dial tone."

Danny looked up, concern etched across his face. "No heavy breathing? Nothing weird?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes as she tasted the pasta. "Danny, this is fabulous! I'd ask you to teach me how to cook, but then, well, I'd have to cook!"

He laughed, but then his busy curiosity went back to the strange phone call. "Have you noticed anything strange on the answering machine recently?"

Lindsay thought back. "Not really. There have been calls from your parents, your sister and some other family; a couple from work, but they usually call the cells; a few from Stella when she knows one of us is off."

Danny shook his head. "Yeah, but we get up to five calls a day, Linds. I mean, I know I usually am the one to check messages…" neither of them said that that was because Danny had people who called him, while Lindsay did not, "but most of those are hang-ups. I just thought they were telemarketers, you know. But we hardly ever answer the phone. Is this the first time you've had a call like that?"

Lindsay ate another few bites of pasta while she thought. "No, I guess I've had a few others." When he cocked a brow at her, urging her for more information, she did a quick calculation. "Yeah, now you mention it, I probably have had maybe one or two a week."

"Since when?" Danny could not help his voice rising a little; he was Italian, after all.

Lindsay looked at him in surprise. "Since I came to New York."

Danny jumped up out of his chair, then tried to hide his concern by going to the fridge and grabbing some water. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Lindsay said, her reasonableness in sharp contrast to Danny's agitation. "What is there to tell? There aren't any threats or weirdness. Just a moment of quiet, then the dial tone. I just assumed they were wrong numbers."

Danny ran a hand gently through her hair, "Honey, in New York wrong numbers don't hang up quietly. They usually try to argue about who you are."

He looked at her face, and saw the beginnings of worry there. Damn, he didn't want to ruin this night for her. With an effort, he smiled and said easily, "Don't worry about it. You're probably right. They must be wrong numbers from Mid-West people – much more polite!" His reward was her snorting laugh.

"And now, Ms. Messer, for the main attraction this evening …" He took her empty plate away and handed her a hat, gloves and scarf. "We are going out to celebrate New Year's Eve with the rest of New York!"

And he gave the city he loved to the woman who had shown him what love was.


	21. Chapter 21: The Call of the Lost

_A/N: As the chapters are getting longer, I'm only putting up one at a time. Please continue to send your ideas and suggestions (Chocobetty has a pool going on the identity of the mysterious caller that some might want in on!)_

_Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to CBS and the creative team at CSI:NY.

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**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 21: The Call of the Lost

Although Stella still was hardly showing, she had read all the books, and knew that the burst of energy of her second trimester was about to come to an end after New Year's. She was going to need a less exhausting work schedule, plus it was time to start the paperwork on her maternity leave, and prepare Mac for her to be out of the field. Before she made a general announcement, she wanted to tell Mac. She mentioned this to Don the night before, while they were getting ready for bed.

"Mac? Really? So Soon? Umm, do you want me to go with you?" Don was a brave man, no one better in a fight, but he still found Mac more than a little intimidating. After all, the man saved his life with a shoelace, for God's sake. And Don was not positive, but he had a vague memory of standing at a doorway, getting ready to go through, when he heard Mac's voice calling him back. How was Don supposed to treat him as human after that?

Stella laughed at his half-hearted offer. "No, I think this is something I'll do on my own, thanks, love. But you don't need to worry; at least he won't need to bring out his shotgun!"

Don's laugh at the joke was a little forced. He decided to avoid the lab if he could for a few days.

"Mac, got a minute?" Stella stood in the doorway, watching him struggle with the scheduling for the next two weeks. It was never easy, and she knew that her news would make things more difficult. Still, she thought Mac would be happy for her. At least, she hoped he would.

"For you, two minutes." His smile lit up his face, making him look like a different person. Stella sat in the chair he indicated as he came around to the front of the desk and leaned against it casually. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, in about four months, you can act as _koumbaros_ for Don and me." Stella's voice was quiet. When Don and she had talked about godparents for the baby, no one had seemed quite as perfect for the job of godfather as Mac. Of course, Don tended to hear the word GODfather when Stella said it; he prefered _koumbaros._

Mac's eyes grew wide, and then he did something completely unexpected: he threw his arms around Stella, lifted her out of the chair, and swung her around, hugging her and shouting, "You're pregnant? Stella, that's wonderful!"

Giggling, she said, "Yes, it is, and I guess you have just saved me the trouble of telling anyone else!"

It was true. Out in the lab, money changed hands like snowballs in a winter battle. Mac put her gently down on her feet, and kissed her, still laughing, though with a glimmer of tears in his eyes. "Where's Don? He didn't come with you? He must be over the moon!"

Stella shook her head, "He couldn't get away, and I wanted to tell you on my own. He can hardly stop himself from crowing like Peter Pan!" She decided to protect Don's reputation and not out him as the coward he was. "I must love him," she thought in amazement. "Well, maybe I'll tell Danny, anyway!"

"Are you sure you want me to be godfather, Stel? It's a pretty big thing in your church, isn't it?" Mac's voice betrayed a little uncertainty, which was as surprising as the joyous shout a few minutes ago had been.

"You would be an important person in this baby's life no matter whether you accept or not, Mac. After all, without you, this baby wouldn't even have had a chance at life. If you hadn't been there when Don was trapped in the bomb blast …" Stella's voice gave out; it was not something she could bear to think about often.

Mac kissed her again, on both cheeks. "I would be deeply honoured to be the baby's _koumbaros._ Thank you, Stella."

She smiled at him, her heart in her eyes. She knew her baby could not have a better person in his or her life than Mac Taylor.

After the news spread through the lab, Danny and Lindsay were in for a lot of teasing about what they knew and when and how could they have not let anyone in on the secret, and did they have any other secrets to pass on? Danny took it all with a wisecrack and a smirk, but Lindsay had a harder time. She eventually started looking for quieter parts of the lab to work in where there were fewer people to chew over the baby question.

She had tried, she really had. Since Stella and Flack had come back from their honeymoon, Lindsay had thrown herself into baby-planning conversations with Stella, and had talked Don out of more than one fit of the panics over being a father. Danny's answer to most things was to take Don out for a drink, which was fast making him Stella's least favorite friend, but it kept Flack from asking any questions Danny couldn't or wouldn't answer. Lindsay would take Stella home and make her tea and listen to her rage against Danny on those nights.

Only Danny saw the toll it took on her. Sometimes, when they got home from working the same shifts as Stella, Lindsay would hide in the bathroom, taking long showers, and, Danny knew, crying. He would make her elaborate dinners and try to make her laugh. She would play along, picking at the food and laughing at the jokes with such blankness in her eyes he thought his heart would break. The only time he felt he could be honest with her was in bed, when he could show her how much he loved her.

Lindsay could hear Danny, could see him, but she felt as if she were behind a sheet of glass, able only to sense him at a distance. Some nights, when they went to bed together, she would hold on to him in desperation, making love as if the act alone could save her. After he fell asleep, she would roll out of his arms and go into the living room, to curl up on the couch so he could not hear her weep.

On those nights, he would open his eyes and stare blankly at the ceiling in the bedroom, waiting for her to come and ask for his help, and dying a little when she didn't.

And as those months between the wedding and New Year's went by, each silent failure of her dreams was flushed down the toilet, and she would bid goodbye to yet another promised child. Twice, her period was late, and she was in an agony of hope for three or four days before hope bled out in a bright parody of arterial blood flow. Then in January, she was nearly two weeks late, and when the blood came, it was so fast and excessive she was sure she had had a miscarriage. She was afraid to go to a doctor and be told it had been nothing of the sort, that getting pregnant was one thing, with all her education and intelligence, she could not do.

Danny was getting frantic. He wasn't sure he cared whether Lindsay and he ever had a child: he was fatalist enough to believe it would happen if it did, and not worry if it didn't. It wasn't so much the lack of a child he was worried about, as Lindsay. She was a little paler, a little frailer, every time he looked at her. As Stella grew, becoming more radiant every day, Lindsay seemed to shrink. She grew quieter and less focused: Lindsay, who had always had been sharply in tune with everything she was doing.

The worst thing was that there was no one to talk to. He couldn't talk to Don or Stella; Lindsay had threatened him in no uncertain terms. He was not to even breathe that they were trying to get pregnant. "I won't ruin this for them," she had said, almost hysterically. "Stella will never be able to talk to me about her baby again if she thinks it would upset me. What would I do then?"

He couldn't talk to Mac or Hawkes; he wasn't stupid enough to think that the same injunction didn't apply to anyone associated with the lab. His parents, supportive though they had been of his marriage, were still a little unsure of their new daughter-in-law, and the last thing Danny wanted to bring up was the possibility of grandchildren or the lack of them.

He had to admit, as well, that for the first time he had a sneaking worry that he was the problem. After all, he'd never got a girl pregnant before, at least not that he had heard about. And in his neighbourhood, he would have heard. Perhaps Lindsay was blaming herself, agonizing over this, and it wasn't her.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he kept hearing Lindsay's voice in the changing room at the reception, "It's not your fault. It's not anybody's fault." But what if it was?

When that idea hit one miserable February morning at 3 o'clock in the field, Danny knew he was going to have to face it - he was going to have to get tested. The very thought was enough to shrivel him up for good, but it was the only mature thing to do. He managed that stalwart thought for all of a minute before he closed his eyes and retched. One of the cases he and Hawkes had handled last year had been a fertility clinic where the doctor was inseminating women with his own sperm. Danny had been disgusted by the collection process; the thought of going through that just to find out he was the problem was too much.

Danny was on his way back to the lab to process the evidence he had collected when he was struck by a brilliant idea. He worked in a lab. He had access to whatever equipment he may need. He was certainly capable of examining sperm and checking its motility. That would be much easier to accomplish than trying to get through a doctor's exam.

He drove through the streets without paying much attention, concentrating on how to accomplish this. He'd need a quiet lab, so night shift would be best. He'd need some peace to "acquire" the sample, which had to be fresh. He'd have to make sure no one was around who could possibly figure out what he was up to - he shuddered at the thought of Adam or Hawkes catching him.

And he would have to be especially careful that Lindsay didn't catch wind of anything. He knew his Montana's competitive spirit; she could just about handle a draw, but a loss would destroy her. As long as they didn't know, she could keep going the way they had been.

Danny didn't think he could any longer. His jaw tightened. He was on call in two nights: he could manufacture a reason to go in. With any luck, it would be a quiet night, and he could get his private project completed without any interference.


	22. Chapter 22: Putting it to the Test

_A/N: Thanks to my reviewers - I appreciate your comments and questions. I'm sorry these chapters aren't going up quite as fast as before, but I hope there is a little more to think about in them._

_Disclaimer: The original characters belong entirely to CBS and the CSI:NY creators._

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**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 22: Putting it to the Test

"Hey, Linds? I have to go in to the lab – Hawkes needs a hand with some tests." Danny put his head around the living room door, trying to keep his voice casual.

She was lying on the couch, watching hockey, and hardly seemed to hear him, just wearily waved and said, "Okay. I'm on shift in the morning – will I see you before I go in?"

He came and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "If I'm too late, I'll call you and we can meet for breakfast." He looked at her carefully, and suggested, "Why don't you go to bed? You look wiped."

"Ta very much, Messer. I'm so glad I meet your approval." Her voice was snippy, and he chuckled.

"You are now and will always be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." He crouched down on the floor in front of the couch and wrapped his arms around her tightly for a moment, kissing her tenderly.

She looked at him, a little puzzled. "Danny? Is everything okay?"

"You tell me," he burned to say, but instead just shook his head and gave her another gentle kiss. "I'll see you in the morning for pancakes and fried potatoes."

"Flapjacks and hash browns, you mean," she teased back. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He had to get out of there while they were still talking to each other and things felt normal for a moment.

By the time Danny got to the lab, he was almost hyper-ventilating with anxiety. He needed to find a quiet place to produce the sample (a very nerve-racking thought in the workplace), and then an empty lab to do the exam. He had never done this particular exam before, so had gone to several texts and a few medical websites to be sure he knew what he was looking for when he examined his sperm's motility. He grimaced at the thought; surely those were words that no man should have to even think about.

Luckily for Danny, the lab was nearly silent; there were no serious cases pending and a skeleton crew was on. He grabbed a microscope, a specimen jar, and gloves. Then he tried to think of a room with no windows where he could be reasonably sure of no interruptions. The only place he could think of was the morgue.

Down he went to the basement. Unlike the rest of the lab, most of these rooms had walls, not windows, so he was much less likely to be seen. The last thing he wanted was any advice with this.

The first problem he encountered was, to be frank, not one he had ever had trouble with, not since he was about 12 years old, anyway. Tonight nothing got him going; he was far too nervous to concentrate, and he hadn't brought any visual stimulation, assuming he wouldn't need it. The morgue wasn't exactly conducive to the process either; the atmosphere was frankly just plain creepy. He kept thinking Sid or Marty Pino was going to come around the corner and catch him.

Luckily, thinking of Sid made him think of the time the ME had told Lindsay that Danny called her Montana because he had a crush on her. That led him to a few other memories, including one in a storage cupboard not too far from where he was. Finally, he managed to put all other thoughts out of his head and concentrate on Lindsay. Collecting a sufficient sample came little easier then.

Taking his sample jar, he went to find a quiet spot in the morgue to set up the microscope. According to one website he had checked, he had to wait half an hour until the sample had achieved liquidity. Danny covered the sample and put on a timer. He paced around the room impatiently until the timer went off, then drew a small amount of the now liquid sample, and prepared a slide.

Just as he pushed up his glasses to look through the microscope, a hand came down on his shoulder, and a quiet voice sounded in his ear, "Hey, Messer? What are you doing down here?"

Danny jumped nearly a foot, his heart in his throat. "Shit, shit, shit, man. What the fuck are you doing here?" He looked into Sheldon Hawkes' face with something akin to terror.

"Umm, I work here?" Hawkes answered, stunned by Danny's reaction. "What are you doing?"

"Testing something." Danny's tone was truculent.

"Yes, I can see that. What and why down here?" Hawkes was quietly insistent.

"Look, Hawkes, I'd really appreciate it if you could just leave, now."

"I don't think so. Come on, Danny. What's going on? You haven't been acting normal for a while. Now here you are in the morgue doing strange chemistry experiments in the middle of the night. Tell me what's up?" Hawkes had been worrying for a while about both Messers; Danny was unnaturally subdued, and Lindsay was beginning to look like a little ghost flitting through the lab.

Danny closed his eyes, and for a moment Hawkes saw that Lindsay was not only one looking grey and worn out. In a quiet voice, he tried again, "Hawkes, I can't tell you what's going on. I promised. She'd never trust me again. Just go away and let me do this, and at least one question will be answered."

Hawkes made a leap right over logic and into pure intuition. "Danny, do you even know what you're looking for in a sperm motility test?" His voice was calm and authoritative.

Danny hardly looked surprised; he felt like "infertile" was written across his forehead already. "Yeah. Sorta. I read about it," he muttered.

"Move," Hawkes pushed him aside and took a long look through the 'scope. Danny's eyes were closed; he seemed to have stopped breathing. Finally, Hawkes looked up him. "Well, whatever the problem, if this is your sample, you aren't it."

Danny's eyes snapped open. "You sure?"

"Plenty of the little buggers in there. You could have a proper count done, but I don't think you need to. Motility grade A – that's good. Right shape. Everything good to go." Hawkes glanced up at the younger man, expecting to see his old "player" smirk on his face.

Instead, Hawkes' voice rose a little in alarm as he said, "Danny? Danny!" Danny was hunched over on his stool as if he had been kicked in the stomach.

"Oh God, oh God, shit, shit, shit," he said under his breath.

"Danny. Danny? This is good news, isn't it?" Hawkes was trying to see into the younger man's face, but Danny had his eyes closed tight and wasn't responding. Hawkes put a hand on his shoulder and shook him. "What? Why is this bad?"

"Sheldon, man, you gotta promise me. I mean really promise me you won't tell Lindsay – anyone, I mean, but especially Lindsay – about this." Danny's eyes burned blue flames into Hawkes' gentle brown eyes.

"I don't get it. This means that you can get her pregnant, right? Isn't this a good thing?"

"Man, remind me to introduce you to my wife sometime," Danny groaned at Hawkes' obtuseness.

"What? This is one less thing to worry about. Right? I mean you guys are trying to get pregnant, aren't you?" When Danny nodded, Hawkes continued, "And she's been to an ob-gyn, right?" Danny shook his head. "What? Why not? How long have you been trying?" The medical doctor voice would have cracked Danny up any other time, but tonight he was too worried about the unexpected results to find anything funny.

"I shouldn't be telling you any of this. She begged me not to. I feel like shit enough for doing this to her. God, how could this happen?" Danny's distress was obvious, even if Hawkes didn't understand any of it, and he realized that in his present state Danny wasn't going to hear a word he said. Without a word, he took Danny by the arm and led him out of the morgue to the elevator, up to the street level, and down the street to an open coffee shop. He pushed the shivering man into a booth and ordered two cups of coffee, waiting until Danny had drunk a cup before starting again.

"How long have you been trying?"

Danny shuddered. "About six months. But she checked, Hawkes – you know Lindsay – no fertility doctor will take us until it's been more than a year."

Hawkes sighed. "Does Lindsay have an ob-gyn in New York, Danny?"

"What? Geez, how would I know?" Danny looked horrified.

"I'll take that as a no. She needs one, Messer, for general health reasons, not just fertility: you know, breast exam, Pap smear, yearly physical, all that?"

"Yuck," Danny's reaction made Hawkes laugh.

"Whatever, man. Here," Hawkes wrote a name and number on a napkin and pushed it at Danny. "It can be hard to get on someone's list – give Josie Metcalfe my name. We were at med school together. Lindsay needs to be checked out. Now, tell me what's been going on."

Everything poured out of Danny at that point: the misses, the frightening bleeding that she had refused to do anything about, her growing desperation, his fear.

"I had to test, Shel. I had to know if she was driving herself insane when it was me all the time … But it isn't. That's going to kill her, Shel. She already blames herself. But you know, as long as there was some doubt, she could cope." Danny's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "If I tell her … dammit, why wasn't it me?"

Hawkes looked at the man across the table from him in genuine amazement. He had never seen this side of Danny Messer before, even through all the things he had gone through in the last year. "That's very nearly noble of you, Messer."

Danny stared in shock for a moment, then grinned reluctantly. "Yeah, well, don't spread it around, 'kay? You'll ruin my rep." He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "So now what, doc? I don't know what to do."

Hawkes watched him for a moment. "Lindsay needs to see a doctor. Now. And she needs to talk to someone – a friend, family, not you. I know she doesn't have a mother; is there any other family?" When Danny shook his head emphatically, Hawkes sighed. "I guess Stella is out of the question?" Danny nodded, again emphatically. "Well, you gotta think of someone, 'kay? She needs a friend to talk to. So do you."

Danny looked at him for a long moment, then his sweetest, most genuine smile stole across his face: "I think I just did."

He watched Hawkes' face light up in answer.


	23. Chapter 23: The Web We Weave

_A/N: I am sorry for the slow updates. Between -29C weather (that's about -10F) and the site not letting me upload any documents on Monday, the world has conspired against me this week! However, here are 2 more chapters, so please keep reviewing, and I'll update again soon._

_Disclaimer: Most characters belong to CBS and the creators of CSI:NY.

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_

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 23: The Web We Weave

Danny laid his plans carefully. He had never done this type of thing without Stella's help before, but now any conversation with her was out of the question. Lindsay may love him, a lot, but she would find it hard to forgive his betrayal on this issue. He had to make sure that even if she figured out part of the plan, she would never figure out all of it. Stella and Don were definitely out of the picture.

That left Sid, Hawkes, and Mac. Call him crazy, but he didn't see Lindsay opening up to Sid. Maybe that was unfair – Sid may have hidden depths of compassion and an hitherto unseen ability to pry secrets out of living people the way he did out of the dead – but Danny didn't think so.

Hawkes already knew too much. Danny was glad that Hawkes had shown up at the lab that night, even if his taking Danny for coffee had led to both of them forgetting about the sample and microscope hidden in the morgue lab until the next day, leaving a lot of people with unanswered questions. Still, he knew that Lindsay would not be able to talk to Hawkes. For some reason, she avoided him; Danny wasn't sure he understood why, because she seemed to like him. She just was careful not to be alone with him, especially since Stella had announced her pregnancy.

That process of elimination left only Mac, but Danny rejected that thought out of hand. No way would Lindsay talk to her boss. Danny had tried it himself during the Tanglewood case, and things had changed between Mac and him, although he wasn't sure it was for the better. Lindsay needed the perception that she was in control, especially in her job, and letting Mac in on this area of her life which was so out of her control would be impossible for her, Danny was sure.

Danny's family was out for the same reason they had been out for him; it was paradoxically too personal to talk about with people who knew them so well, and had so much emotionally invested in the outcome. Lindsay's family had not responded to their wedding invitation (sent by Lindsay in a moment of weakness at 3 in the morning); they probably wouldn't respond to a distress call any more sympathetically.

That left only one place for Danny to turn, and as soon as he thought of it, it all seemed to fit. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed a number. "Hey, it's Danny. How ya' doin'? Good? Me? Not so good, actually. I need your help. Naw, I can't explain it on the phone. Can I come by and talk to you?"

It took a couple of days for the plan to develop. He had the basics down cold, but to get Lindsay where he needed her, in the right frame of mind, was going to take some doing. Danny was pretty good with a story, but he was used to having people to bounce ideas off. This doing it on his own was a lot harder than he had ever thought. He sighed, knowing that Don and Stella would find out, and that they would be hurt and upset that he hadn't come to them. But how could he? Lindsay was determined that they not know anything about it, and Lindsay's feelings had to come first. He knew that everyone would understand that at the same time they hated it. Hell, he hated it.

Under Hawkes' intimidating stare, he had finally broached the subject of making a doctor's appointment with Lindsay. She had very nearly ripped him a new one when he started, but he had planned for that. It was time for annual physical reports to be handed in to the supervisor's office; it hadn't been a problem the year before because she was new and had her exit report sent from Montana. This year, when she complained she didn't have a New York doctor, he casually gave her Dr. Josie Metcalfe's number. She had an appointment for the end of February, which gave him a week to carry out his plan.

Sunday, he and Lindsay both had off, so that was the day. He'd made what arrangements he could, and was counting on his contact to do the rest of the work. All he had to do, he hoped, was get Lindsay there. Everything else would be taken out of his hands.

Sunday morning, they got up late and Lindsay cooked breakfast. As he washed up, she sat down at the kitchen table and sighed. "Do we have any plans today, Danny?"

He looked at her pale face and nearly took her back to bed to sleep all day. But he hardened his heart and went with the plan.

"Yeah, remember? Ma Flack invited us over for coffee this afternoon. She called last week."

Lindsay closed her eyes a moment. Much as she liked Dora Flack, her house was always full of babies and pregnant women, not to mention a glowing Stella and smug Don. The thought of smiling all afternoon made Lindsay want to throw up. Still, she had been well-brought up, so she pasted a bright smile on her face and said, "I did forget! We'll have to pick up some flowers for her; I know there's no point in taking her any baking!"

They laughed together over the memory of a Flack family Christmas party, when Lindsay had shown up with a box of cookies she had made. Dora had fussed over them and put them on a special plate, then put them out on a table so laden with food all the people in a third world country would have had a feast first, then left-overs for a week. Since then, Lindsay had taken flowers.

"We'll go for a walk and see what we can find at the market. She's expecting us around 2:00. Why don't you go have a bath, and I'll grab a shower when you're done." Danny couldn't remember the last time they had showered together; he didn't even suggest it any more.

Lindsay sighed as she went to fill the bath. Only a few months ago, they would have stayed in bed all day making love, and Danny would have joined her in the shower. She wasn't sure when things had changed, but she could feel that sheet of glass between her and Danny getting thicker, and she was too tired to even try to break through. She didn't think he'd care one way or another, either. The past few weeks he had stepped further back, as if he was tired of humouring her all the time.

She lay in the bath, wondering what it was about her that made everyone leave her or turn their back on her. Her mother had deserted her long before her death from cancer when Lindsay was 11, fighting so hard to keep living that she could hardly see the little girl clinging so tightly to her hand. Then her father had retreated to the police force, looking to his brothers in arms to supply the missing piece in his life instead of his children.

When Lindsay had been asked to look into corruption at the Bozeman Police Force, it had never occurred to her that people she knew were going to be involved. The first person she found solid evidence on had been her father's best friend since he entered the force as a rookie. Lindsay had been hard pressed not to write Uncle Ralph on the paperwork for his arrest warrant. The next person was her own captain, the man who had given her first job, but the pain of that betrayal was completely swallowed up by discovering her oldest brother, Tim, was involved in drugs and prostitution, as well as the cover-up. The last official act she could remember as a police officer for the Bozeman force was taking her sister-in-law's statement after Tim beat her for asking him what was going on with him. All her family had turned on her after that.

Lindsay got out of the bath, too restless to lie down, and turned on the shower instead. Why was she going over all this again? It was in the past, over and done with. So what if her father and all her brothers had cut her out of their life? So what if she had committed the ultimate sin of going after cops instead of the bad guys? She agreed with Mac: cops who were dirty were worse than bad guys. They made everything they had ever touched, including all the decent, dedicated cops out there, as diseased as they were themselves.

She dried herself off as she looked in the mirror. Whatever she had done badly in her life, she was a good cop. And she had married a good cop, who was also a good man. Even if Danny was getting tired of her, he was still the best person she had ever known. Maybe, if she worked at it, she could get them back to where they had been only a few months ago. If she could just get over this bone-deep weariness that made everything, even brushing her hair, an overwhelming effort.

She pulled on the clothes she had picked out, a tidy pair of jeans and deep green sweater, shook out her hair and put on just enough makeup to disguise the dark circles under her eyes. Then she straightened her shoulders and went to find Danny. It was time to go and practice smiling.


	24. Chapter 24: Intervention

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 24: Intervention

Danny knocked on the Flacks' back door and opened it in one smooth movement, calling out, "Hey, anyone home? We've come for coffee, and my lady here needs cake."

Lindsay wasn't quite that comfortable in the Flacks' home, but she could remember friends' houses where she had been able to run in and out like this. A fierce wave of longing to be home swept over her, but she shook her head and ignored it. This was home now.

"Danny, Lindsay, I wasn't expecting you quite yet. The coffee isn't even on, and the cake is still cooling - I can't ice it until it's cooled, you know!" Dora Flack moved in her customary bustle, kissing Lindsay, taking her coat, and rubbing her cold hands, then swiftly turning to Danny, and repeating her actions until she had nearly disappeared beneath the weight of winter coats. She deposited them down the hall in a bedroom and was back in the kitchen before either could find a seat.

"Danny, Don is in the den, watching some gang of bullies beat up some other gang of bullies. Why don't you go and join him? The boys will be along soon." When Dora said boys, one was never sure whether her grandchildren ages seven months to 12 years were invading, or whether she meant her sons-in-law: three strapping men who could fill the small house in an instant. Lindsay smiled a little cautiously and wondered how much of a coward she was for hoping it was the in-laws Dora meant.

At least Don and Stella weren't here. Lindsay didn't know if she could stand another discussion about baby names today. Stella was determined to name a son Don Flack the Third, which of course had won the approval of her parents-in-law, and was making Don Jr. the bad guy by arguing against it. Lindsay thought Don was right, actually; being a Third in a cop family would be a terrible burden. But she had been out-voted. In fact, her opinion had not got beyond, "Well, actually..." the last time she had been asked before the whole family weighed in again at top volume.

Dora shooed Danny out of the room, but not before Lindsay had caught a glimpse of his face; he looked a little worried, and she wondered why. It wasn't as if Dora would ever hurt her - accidentally poison her with a massive caffeine or cake overdose, or perhaps.

"Sit yourself down, my dear. Tell me about what's been going on in your life."

Lindsay found it easy to talk to Dora. She told her about the case they had been working on, being careful not to give any details. She told her about the new curtains she was sewing for the living room of Danny's apartment; it was the bigger of the two places they had lived in, but the decorating had left much to be desired. They talked colours and fabrics while Dora made coffee, filled Lindsay's cup twice, made icing, iced the cake she had baked that morning, cut slices and took them into the den (which was now filling up with large men yelling at the ref and cheering on the Rangers) with another full pot of coffee, mugs, cream, and sugar on a tray. Every time Lindsay asked if she could help, Dora would frown and say, "Of course not. You just sit and relax; you're a guest."

As they talked, the kitchen filled up with Flack daughters: Maria, Elena, and Sophia, a trio of noisy, laughing dark-haired beauties with deep blue eyes. Lindsay always felt short when she was the Flack's house, even though both Dora and Maria were actually the same height as she was, while Elena and Sophia, like their father, were tall and lean. They all had such presence that they seemed to fill more space than should have been possible.

Sophia had the youngest grandchild in a car seat, but all the other children were deposited around the neighbourhood, it seemed to Lindsay, as the sisters explained each child's whereabouts to its worried grandmother.

"I can't believe you didn't bring more than one of my babies to see me!" she scolded all her daughters indiscriminately as she released little Quinn from his restraints and handed him casually over to Lindsay.

Lindsay froze, unheeded by the sisters, who were all defending themselves loudly to their mother. The little boy, only seven months old, looked at her and giggled, raising his hands to pat at her face, then gleefully tangling his hands in her hair. She winced and carefully pulled his hands away, then began to talk to him in a quiet voice.

"Good afternoon, young Master Jeffries. How are you this fine day? You look as if you have been having a grand time indeed." It was virtually the same voice she would have used with a skittish colt, and it seemed to have much the effect on the baby it would have on a yearling.

As she talked in her quiet voice, so different from what he was used to, the little boy stared and then began talking back to her, matching her inflections in his responses. Lindsay listened very seriously, nodding her head and answering him when he stopped.

The women around the table quieted a bit, watching the serious young woman and the baby in deep conversation. When Lindsay realized they were being observed, she flushed and looked at Sophia, holding Quinn out to his mother.

"You should take him. I'm not very good with babies; I'm more comfortable when they can run around."

"You look good with babies, Lindsay," Dora said quietly.

That was all it took. Lindsay's eyes flooded with tears. Quinn turned to face her again, patting her cheeks and cooing, but Lindsay handed him quickly to Sophia and stood up to go.

"Sit down." Dora's tone was still gentle, but too firm to mistake. Lindsay's knees gave way and she sat at the table again, burying her head in her hands so she wouldn't have to look at anyone.

Maria glanced at her mother, who nodded to her. "Lindsay, you know my son, James? He's turning 12 next week. It took Tom and me nearly three years before we got pregnant with him. Then we had Christopher 18 months later. Rhianna took a lot longer to come."

Dora nodded her head. "And Don is 6 years younger than Sophia for a reason. Maria and Elena are 16 months apart, then Sophia 20 months later. We had to wait for a boy – he took his time."

"Been late ever since," Sophia muttered, laughing.

Lindsay's sobs had slowed as the women talked, though she kept her head down. Were they really trying to make her feel better? They all had children, even if it had taken some time. And where had this all suddenly come from anyway? Lindsay smelled a rat, and his name was going to be mud when she got him home.

Dora said, "Babies come, Lindsay, sometimes wanted, sometimes not. And sometimes they don't come when we want them desperately."

"Did Danny tell you?" Her voice was low, but cold. Dora could feel the anger growing in the young woman across the table.

"He said he was worried about you, but he didn't need to tell me that. Everyone is worried about you." Dora said.

"About me? Why? Am I incomplete if I'm married and have no children? Is that what everyone is waiting for – for me to enter the baby pools? Well, I don't even know if I want children. They tie you down and make it hard to do your job. I'm a good cop; having a baby will stop me from doing that job. And I'm afraid of having a baby, and maybe that's why I'm not pregnant..." Lindsay had started in a great rush, but her voice fell and stopped in the face of the women ranged against her across the table.

Then Dora stood up, came around the table, and put her arms around Lindsay, holding her tight. The other women reached out to Lindsay, stroking and comforting her while she cried again.

Dora said quietly, "We're worried about you because you are unhappy, because we love you. Danny talked to me because he was at his wit's end. Whether you have a baby or not won't make any difference to us. Whether or not you are content about it will."


	25. Chapter 25: Arrival of the Avenging Fury

_A/N: Weather's warmed up, so here are two more chapters. They are long, but enjoy (and review!)_

_Disclaimer: Certainly not mine, at least originally!

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**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 25: Arrival of the Avenging Fury

When she finally finished her storm of weeping, Dora got up and poured her another cup of coffee and cut a huge slice of cake for her to wash down. Lindsay gave a watery giggle at the size of it, and then grabbed Dora's hand.

"Thank you." She meant for more than the cake.

"Babies, no babies. Not all choices are ours, my dear. Go see the doctor and make sure everything is all right. Deal with what you can. Then relax, and trust in God." Dora smiled serenely.

Sophia nodded in acknowledgement of her mother's faith, though her eyes betrayed some doubt, but then looked Lindsay in the face seriously. "And talk to Danny. He's blaming himself. He loves you so much." Danny had been in the Flack's life long enough that the girls had long ago adopted him as another younger brother.

"He can hardly look at me." Lindsay's voice choked with tears again.

"He wants to fix it all, my dear, just like any man. Men only know two ways to solve a problem: break it to pieces or put it back together. He can't do either for you, and it is eating him up." Dora answered her placidly.

Lindsay smiled again, thinking hard. She couldn't believe that Danny had set her up like this, although she was surprised to find she did feel better. Having grown up in a family full of men, she was not used to talking to women about the things that bothered her. Until Stella, the only women in her life had been trying to get together with one of her brothers or her father, and their main interest in Lindsay had been as a path to that goal.

Maria said, "Danny came from the right kind of family: one which recognized that women could do anything men can't do!"

Lindsay's eyes filled with tears again. "Not in my family."

"What do you mean not in your family? This is your family." Elena held out her hand for plates and passed out more cake. "Family is a choice too, you know."

As she put the cake in front of Maria, the back door blew open and Stella and Don breezed in. Don took one look at Lindsay's red eyes and tear-blotched face and would have bolted immediately except for Stella's hand on his arm. One look at his mother's face over-rode his wife's silent order, however, and he was through the kitchen and into the den, where he was greeted with howls of dismay as the home team lost possession of the puck. Don sat down beside Danny and punched him on the arm.

"What's going on? Lindsay's crying." He hissed it under his breath, not that any of the men in the room would have noticed if he had screamed it. New York had the puck, and all eyes were riveted on the screen.

Danny flushed and bit his lip. He didn't know whether crying was a good sign or not. "Your ma's taking care of it."

"What? What's going on? Why didn't you tell me?"

Danny shook his head, not looking at his friend, "Lindsay begged me not to. What could I do?"

"But you told my mother?"

"It made sense at the time." Danny shrugged uncomfortably; he hoped he hadn't made a terrible mistake. He also hoped like hell Don never found out that Hawkes had known first.

Stella stood in her mother-in-law's kitchen, her face growing red with anger. "What is going on here? Lindsay, why are you crying? What have you done to her?" She pulled the younger woman into her arms and soothed her, while staring around the room, daring them to hurt Lindsay when she was there to protect her. Lindsay was trying incoherently to tell Stella she was all right, but it wasn't very convincing, as she could not take in a big enough breath to talk.

The sisters smothered their laughter, waiting for the fireworks. Dora stood too, arms akimbo, and glared back at her angry daughter-in-law. "Stella Bonasera-Flack, do you actually think we would do anything to hurt this child? What about you? What have you done?"

Lindsay turned and frantically hushed Dora, but the older woman was on a roll and could not be stopped. "Here's this child breaking her heart and you haven't even noticed. And Danny nearly out of his mind with worry. Honestly, I thought I had brought my boy up better than to ignore a friend."

Lindsay finally broke through, and she stood between the two angry women, her face pale and hands shaking. "Stop it, please stop it. Stella, they were helping me. They didn't hurt me, I promise. And Dora, Stella and Don are my best friends. They didn't do anything wrong."

Stella looked down at the smaller woman and started to smile. Lindsay looked so scared, but so determined, rather like an angry kitten. "Lindsay, it's okay. Relax." She looked around the kitchen at her family. "I think Lindsay and I need to talk. Dora, we'll be upstairs, okay?"

Dora commanded, "Wait!" She quickly put together a tray of cake, coffee, and a glass of milk for Stella, thrusting it into her hands and pushing her out the door. "Go! Talk! Then _we_ will have something to talk about!"

Stella giggled all the way up the stairs, leading Lindsay to Don's old bedroom. She sat down a little awkwardly on the bed she had banished Don to the week before they were married and gestured to Lindsay to join her.

"Spill. You owe me for getting me into trouble with Ma."

Lindsay swallowed, "Stella, I feel so badly. That was all my fault, and she was helping me, really she was..."

Stella looked at her, eyebrows raised, then laughed. "Lindsay, Ma is Italian. I'm Greek. If we don't have a yelling blow-out at least once a month, how would we know we still liked each other? Don't worry about it. Eat some cake and tell me what has been going on."

Lindsay grimaced at the idea of more cake, and pushed the plate over to Stella. "I'm sorry for being a bad friend," she started.

Stella's eyebrows rose even higher this time. "What are you talking about? You've been my best friend, Lindsay, through everything the past year."

"But I haven't been. I've been so angry with you. I'm sorry, Stella."

Stella smiled and relaxed. Finally, Lindsay was ready to talk about what had been going on with her. Stella crossed her legs underneath her and leaned back against the headboard, as her belly no longer made it easy to lean forward, and prepared to listen to whatever Lindsay might have to say.

Don had snuck out of the den to find out what all the shouting had been about, only to find that his mother and sisters were in the kitchen alone, playing with Quinn and drinking coffee.

"Umm, where's Stella? And Lindsay?" He spoke quietly.

"They are upstairs, talking. And you should be talking with Danny. How could you let things go so far, Donald? We could have solved at least some of this long ago."

"Ma, I tried. He wouldn't talk to me because Lindsay wouldn't talk to Stella. It took someone else to break through, I guess."

Dora smiled. "It took a mother. You'll figure it out."


	26. Chapter 26: I Will Follow You

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 26: I Will Follow You

When Danny held Lindsay's coat for her to put on, she took it out of his hands without touching him and swung it over her shoulders, turning her back on him decisively before bestowing a warm smile and hugs on the various members of the Flack family still at the house. She walked out the door without waiting for him, and he stifled a groan.

"So, tell me, Ma, how much shit am I in?" He tried for a light tone, and failed miserably.

Dora smacked him automatically for the language, but then hugged him tightly. "Tell her how you feel, Danny. That's all she wants. She'll come around, I promise." She kissed him on the cheek then shooed him the door, "And don't let her get too far ahead of you!"

He ran down the back stairs and around to the front of the house, glancing both ways down the street; Lindsay should have turned right if she was going home, but in her present mood, he wouldn't put it past her not to do that. Sure enough, he saw her walking briskly the other way, and hunching a little against the cold February wind, he followed her. He could smell snow in the air, and sighed. It had been an unexpectedly brutal winter with record low temperatures and more snow than New Yorkers were really comfortable with. Lindsay seemed oblivious to the cold, walking down the street with an easy open stride, quite different from most New Yorkers, who were huddled, like Danny, inside their coats.

Danny walked behind her, watching her closely. There was a rhythm to Lindsay's fits of anger, he had learned. Unlike Stella, who blew sky-high with rage, but lost steam pretty quickly, Lindsay took a long time to get angry, but just as long to let go of the rage. Unlike her in-laws and the Flacks, and, Danny thought, just about everyone he had grown up with, she did not yell. A killing frost was more her style. As long as she was moving at her present speed, there was no point in catching up with her. So he stayed back and tried to gauge how angry she was by how fast she moved. The fact that he had to speed up a little to keep the same distance behind her was a pretty good indication that she was plenty steamed.

After a block or so, he noticed something peculiar and sped up a little more. There was another person striding along as if the cold had no effect on him, a man dressed in a down jacket with a muffler around his face. Danny wouldn't have noticed him at all except that this man was between him and Lindsay, and was, it soon became obvious, following the petite detective closely. Danny's attention was drawn to him when Lindsay stopped for a minute to look at a shop window, hesitated a moment as if she was going to go in, then obviously changed her mind and went on down the street, although at a slightly slower pace.

The man in the down jacket stopped when Lindsay did, and turned to look in a shop window also. This might have been a more convincing ruse if the shop window he was looking at with such interest had not been a butcher shop. Danny couldn't believe even the most passionate carnivore could want to stare with rapt attention at a side of pork and some sausages for nearly two minutes, while Lindsay decided whether or not to go into the store which had caught her eye.

Danny took a couple of steps towards the man, who started moving again as soon as Lindsay did, and opened his mouth to call out the customary warning when he realized he didn't have his badge. He had no authority to tackle the guy on the street, so he decided it was time to catch up with Lindsay. He could find out what was going on later.

In a few steps he had drawn up beside the man in the down jacket, and examined him quickly, trying to catch any distinguishing characteristics he could explore in more depth later. The man had his muffler drawn right around his face, though, and all Danny could do was make a quick estimation of his height, build and hair colour. That would have to do for now.

As he passed the store Lindsay had nearly gone into, his heart clutched. It was an upscale baby store, with an enticing window full of tiny clothes in soft colours and bright toys designed to hold attention. He was filled with a fierce determination to make things all right with Lindsay, so they could begin to deal with this together.

A block later, he walked up beside her, and matched her stride. She sped up for a moment, but then slowed down again. She knew he could walk as fast as she did; there was no point in trying to get ahead of him again.

He didn't say anything or try to touch her. He just paced beside her, waiting her out. They had walked about three more blocks when she finally turned into a local coffee shop and went up to the counter, ordering their biggest size of mocha with as much whipped cream as they could put on the top. Then she turned and sat down without paying, leaving that up to him. He hid a smile as he ordered and handed over the money for both drinks. Lindsay had come out without her purse, which was not unusual when they were together. At least she still trusted him to cover her.

He brought her decadent drink over to the table with his cup of black Americano, and silently asked her permission to sit at the table. She nodded stiffly and licked some of the whipped cream off her drink.

"Is there something wrong with me that I wish I were that cup of coffee right now?" He asked conversationally. His accent was a little stronger than usual, as always when his emotions were running high.

Taken by surprise, she snorted, spilling some of her drink on the table as she put the cup down. "Don't make me laugh. I don't want to laugh. I am so mad at you right now." She stared down at her cup, tracing a finger through the coffee on the table, and refusing to look at him.

Placidly, he said, "I know."

"You embarrassed me."

"I know."

"I begged you not to tell anyone."

"Yeah, you did."

"But you told them anyway."

"Yeah."

His calm answers were driving her crazy. She wanted to yell and scream and throw things, but she couldn't if he was going to be all reasonable and take all the blame she was dumping on him. Actually, she admitted, she couldn't have done any of that anyway; it just wasn't in her. So all her pain and anger just sat inside her in a lump, making it hard to breathe.

After waiting a few minutes, Danny reached out a hand, holding it open on the table beside hers, but still not touching her. "Lindsay, it was killing me. I couldn't stand to see you in so much pain and not do anything. It would be like walking past a person lying bleeding on the sidewalk. I'm in this too, you know. You were shutting me out with everyone else. I was so afraid I was going to lose you."

Lindsay looked up when she heard his voice shaking on the last few words. For the first time in a long time, it felt, she really looked at him. His eyes were full of pain and love; his face looked strained and drawn. She was shaken to the core. How had she let this happen in such a short time? Only a few months ago, they had been so happy, so full of promise and joy. And now, because of her intense focus on what she wanted, she had nearly driven this relationship, the only important one left in her life, into the ground.

The way, her heart whispered to her, she had ignored all her family and friends in her urge to prove her investigative skills back in Montana. How many more people was she willing to drive out of her life?

Her hand grasped his and she smiled up at him shakily. "Let's go home, Messer. We have some talking to do."

When he smiled back at her, it was as if the sun shone through the clouds that filled the dark February day.


	27. Chapter 27: Making it Right

_A/N: Just a little smut to warm a cold day, so you have been warned. The plot continues, though!_

_Disclaimer: thank CBS and CSI:NY for coming up with them!_

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 27: Making it Right

They came through the apartment door already entangled in each other. They had run the last two blocks and up the stairs, stopping every few minutes to kiss again, so they were breathless and anxious enough that they could hardly get the door unlocked.

Once through, he turned on her and pushed her against the door, closing it with a quick slam. His hands were busy unzipping her coat and then stroking down her body, pulling her closer to him while his mouth explored hers. She whimpered as she pushed his coat to the floor and clutched at his shoulders to draw him even closer.

The phone began to ring, and Lindsay stiffened, but Danny muttered, "Machine." It rang a few more times, then stopped when the machine clicked on. They didn't give it another thought.

Danny wrapped his arms around her and lifted her feet off the ground, carrying her down the hall to the bedroom. He deposited her on the bed and reached down to pull off her boots and socks, his tongue running along her instep as he did. She gasped and reached for him, but he stayed just out of reach, his hands running up her leg to the waistband of her jeans. He unbuttoned them, slid the zipper down, and peeled them and her underwear off her slowly. Then, starting at her feet again, he kissed and nibbled his way up her legs, stopping at the back of one knee for a moment, then on the inner thigh of the other leg.

His hands kneaded her feet and calves as his mouth lingered for a moment over her flat stomach, then he pushed her feet onto the bed so her knees were bent and open, his hands still holding her ankles, and he went lower, his tongue parting and tasting her. She moaned and bucked against him, though he held her in such a tight grasp she could barely move. He licked her slowly, then suddenly sucked her into his mouth. She came, moaning his name on a breath that made his heart sing. He gentled against her as she panted, then began the long slow torture again, until she was desperate, begging him for more.

He stood and stripped as she pulled off the rest of her clothes and held out her arms for him. He crawled beside her and kissed her deeply. She could taste herself on him, could feel his arousal against her, his hands on her, and she nearly came again with sheer gratitude. He was hers; he loved her, and she hadn't destroyed them. She pulled him closer and urged him to enter her. Covering her mouth with his, he swallowed her cries as he slowly pushed into her and stopped once he was fully buried in her sweet heat. He stopped, resting his forehead against hers. "I love you, Lindsay." His voice was rough and tight, and she had never heard anything so beautiful. She arched against him, and he moved slowly, gently until he felt her beginning to quiver.

He pulled out and began to kiss his way down her body again, ignoring her laughing, moaning complaint. He was going to make this last if it killed him, and the way he was feeling, it just might.

It was much later, after Lindsay had fallen asleep, exhausted but at peace, that Danny gathered enough brain cells back together to start worrying about the man who had been following her. He got up quietly, tucking the covers around his wife, and went into the living room to check the apartment. They had, as he had half suspected, left the door unlocked, so he rectified that omission, then automatically checked the machine. Three hang-ups today, including one, he was a little surprised to notice, which had happened about the time they had come home. He vaguely remembered ringing, but honestly, he had thought it was his ears.

He pulled a notebook out of the desk drawer by the phone. Since Lindsay had told him on New Year's Eve that she had been receiving phone calls ever since she moved to New York, he had been tracking the calls at the house, writing down the time each occurred. Three was a lot, but not the most; one day in mid-January there had been five. It was no wonder they hadn't paid attention, though. On top of everything else, that was the same week the Smart trial had started and between the media circus and the court-room drama, they had barely had time to come home, much less pay attention to the phone.

Danny sat on the couch, looking at the log he had been keeping for nearly eight weeks. He had tried everything he could think of to determine some pattern to the calls, but had failed. Now he wondered if they were just random; perhaps the caller phoned more on days he had been following Lindsay.

He closed his eyes and shuddered. New York was a big city, and Lindsay was a cop first and foremost, even if she was a scientist as well. There was no way to keep her off the street, and even wanting to keep her safe didn't make Danny think for one second that she would agree to having her movements restricted in any way. Had Danny known this caller was actually stepping up his campaign, he would have done something long ago. As it was, he knew it was time to call in the Marines. He flipped open his phone and called Mac at the office.

"Hey. Yeah, sorry for the late call. I need your help, Mac. It's Lindsay. Remember when I asked you if you thought any of the people who had threatened her in Montana could still be a problem? I think the answer is yes. I'm going to need you to pull rank a little here."

After his conversation with Mac, Danny slipped back into bed, pulling a warm and willing Lindsay into his arms, waking her with a fierce hunger she easily matched. As he emptied himself into her, he made a silent promise. He might not be able to make all her dreams come true, but he vowed to whatever powers there were that he would at least keep her safe to pursue whatever dreams she wanted to.

In the morning, he woke her up with a kiss and a cup of coffee. Lindsay grinned at him lazily, and his heart turned over. "We didn't talk," she started, but he cut her off with another kiss.

"I know, and we will, I promise. But right now I need you to get up - we're meeting with Mac in an hour."

"Mac? Why on earth are we meeting with Mac? Is it a case?" Her voice was muffled by the bathroom door; the name Mac had got her moving faster than the coffee.

Danny leaned against the bathroom door, enjoying the sight of her through the shower curtain. Who knew it would be the little domestic moments he liked most about being married? He shook his head slowly. "Not yet, at least. But it's gonna be."

She was usually quick in the morning, but she broke records today. She came out of the bedroom, dressed, her hair still damp and curling around her face, attaching her badge to her waistband and putting her gun in its holster. Danny handed her a fresh cup of coffee, and motioned her to sit down.

"You're scaring me here, Danny." She said it lightly, but she was serious.

"Lindsay, yesterday, when you left the Flacks', did you notice anything unusual?"

"Like what?" She had seen and heard nothing but her own roaring dismay and fury to be honest, but she didn't feel like telling him that.

"I followed you, you know, about a block behind you."

She nodded; she had actually known that he was behind her long before he caught up. Of course, she could tell when he was five floors away in the same building; it was as if she could feel his heartbeat overlaying hers. She wasn't going to tell him that, though, either.

"Thing is, Lindsay, someone else was following you too."

Her brown eyes widened, and she stood up to re-fill her coffee. "Did you get a look at him?"

"He was about 5'11, 190 pounds, brown hair, a little long. He was bundled up good with a muffler round his face, so I wouldn't be able to ID him. But he walked like you do."

Lindsay cracked a smile, "What do you mean?"

"New Yorkers hunch up in the cold, Montana; they pull their heads into their coat collars and try to get small. You walk big - long strides, head up, hands at your sides instead of in your pockets. It's how people know you're not from here even before you open your mouth." He laughed at her insulted look, especially as he had acted out what he was saying, and looked a bit like a demented cowboy when he was walking in "Montanan".

"Thing is, this guy was trying to hide himself, but he still walked like he was from Big Sky country." It was killing Danny to tell her that there was something else to worry about, one more thing they had to deal with. But he had underestimated his girl; the only emotion on her face was curiosity.

"Well, that's weird. So why are we talking to Mac?"

Danny pulled the notebook he had been tracking the hang-up calls in, opened it to the beginning and tossed it on the table. "Eight weeks, nearly a hundred calls, Linds. All hang-ups. Some just as we get home; some when no one is home; some when you should be home, but for some reason aren't answering the phone. Something you want to tell me?" His eyes, which had been so warm and loving a moment ago, had cooled slightly.

Lindsay looked up at him and laughed. "Hey, Mr. New Yorker, I don't answer the phone if I don't recognize the number. That's all. These calls all came through as blocked, so I let them go to the machine. Did you think I've been hiding from something?"

Danny took a deep breath - that was in part what he had worried about. "This ain't normal, Lindsay. People don't get this number of hang-up calls. And they especially don't get hang-up calls at the same time that they are being followed on the street."

Lindsay frowned thoughtfully. "So we are going to talk to Mac to ask him to investigate?"

Danny looked at her, a little worried by her calmness. "Yes." His voice brooked no argument.

"Okay, then let's go." She stood up and grabbed her coat, putting it on and finding her boots under the bed where they had ended up. She stood by the door, waiting for him, then called out, "Danny? You ready?"

He came into the hallway, shrugging his own coat on. "I gotta admit, I'm a little surprised, Montana. I thought you'd fight me on this."

She turned and put her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, only pulling away when her knees threatened to give out under her. Then she rubbed the lipstick off his mouth and grinned. "I have a lot going on in my life, Messer. I'm not willing to give anyone an opportunity to interfere. If the calls worry you, let's figure them out. If someone's following me, let's stop him. I have things to take care of."


	28. Chapter 28: Making a Case

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 28: Making a Case

When they walked into Mac's office, they were hand in hand, and Mac was glad to see, in harmony. He had worried after Danny's call that Lindsay was going to fight them all on this; most police officers hate to be restricted in any way, and Lindsay had always been tough. He searched her face for any signs of fear or hints that she was giving up, but she looked the way she always did on a case: curious and intent on finding an answer. The only thing the least bit unusual was that she was letting Danny hold her hand in the office.

Mac had called in Flack and Hawkes in on this case as well. Until they knew what they were dealing with, Mac would rather be cautious. If there was nothing there, good. If there was, he wasn't going to wait around for something bad to happen before he allocated manpower.

Don watched Danny and Lindsay closely; when they left his parents' place the day before, they certainly had not seemed in very good shape. He had been told by his mother, his sisters, and his wife to report anything he saw. Hell, even his father had said, "Watch out for that girl, would you? Something not right there." When Danny felt the look boring through him, he gave Flack the ghost of his usual grin and a sideways jerk of the head, which could only be interpreted as Danny feeling pretty good about things. Flack relaxed marginally; now they had a new crisis to work on.

"So, Danny, lay it out for us," Mac said.

"Okay. Since Lindsay moved to New York, she's averaged between one and three hang-up calls every week. She didn't think anything of it. In the past eight weeks, our home phone has averaged two to five hang-ups a day. I've been tracking since New Year's; that was when Lindsay told me this had been happening a while."

"Lindsay, did you talk to anyone about the hang-ups, report them to the phone company?" Mac interrupted, taking notes.

"It never occurred to me, actually. I've never lived on my own – as far as I know, that's normal, especially in the big city." Lindsay's voice was calm, but her hand was firmly entwined with Danny's.

Danny continued, "Yesterday, I saw a man following Lindsay on the street. He must have been waiting for us to leave the Flacks'. Linds left before me and when I got out on the street, he was between us. I didn't realize until she stopped to look in a shop window and he stopped too that he was tracking her." Danny's Staten Island accent had thickened as he spoke.

"Couldn't he just have been looking in a window?" Flack objected.

"A butcher shop, for over a minute?" Danny answered.

"Okay, we're going to need to dump your home phone, Danny, so we can find out where the calls are coming from. Lindsay, we should be able to access the records from your old number as well. Neither of you have any strange calls on your cells, do you?" Both CSIs shook their heads.

"Wait a minute, Mac. Lindsay, you don't seem all that surprised by this," Hawkes said. "Is there something else we should know?"

Mac looked at Danny, then they both turned and looked at Lindsay. She took in a deep breath before turning towards Flack and Hawkes. She had known since Danny had phoned Mac that her past in Montana was going to come out, but Mac and Danny were obviously going to let her decide how much to explain.

"Before I left Montana, I had been receiving threats: mostly letters and emails. I had been involved in an investigation which brought down several police officers. Not all of them took that quietly. Once the cases were through the system, most of the threats had stopped."

"But you did get that call from Peter, and he kept calling for a while, you said." Danny had remembered about those calls on the way into the station.

"Well, yes," Lindsay said, a little surprised. "But they were from his home phone, Danny; I recognized the number. Besides, he stopped calling."

"Wait a minute," Flack put his hands up, "Who's Peter?"

"Old boyfriend. Didn't like being investigated by his girlfriend. Started calling about 10 or 11 months ago." Danny's explanation was terse. "How do you know he stopped, Linds? Maybe he just changed to another phone."

"He left messages, not hang-ups. Besides, you're talking about obsession here, Danny. Do I look like the kind of woman men get obsessed over?"

There was a moment of silence, as the three other men tried not to look at Danny, who flushed a little uncomfortably. Flack, naturally, was the first to crack, and burst out laughing.

Lindsay looked in confusion at Flack and Hawkes, who was struggling to control himself; even Mac was grinning a little behind his hand. Then she glanced at Danny and noticed his red ears and averted face. Her smile was brilliant, "Danny? Really? Oh, that is so sweet!"

He glared at his so-called friends, but grinned sheepishly at Lindsay anyway, kissing the hand he was still holding. "Guilty. So I have no trouble believing this Peter guy is a good suspect."

Lindsay shook her head, but reached out and lovingly rubbed her hand down Danny's cheek.

"But it didn't occur to you that these calls were connected to any of that?" Hawkes' voice was quiet and insistent.

"Honestly, when I moved to New York, I shut Montana out as much as possible. I really didn't think about it." Lindsay was watching Danny, still smiling a bit giddily at the thought of him being obsessed.

Mac cleared his throat, "Danny, what kind of description do you have on the man following Lindsay?"

Danny ran down the details: 5'11", 190 pounds, light brown hair, not quite shoulder length. "The rest was covered by a muffler," he concluded.

"Lindsay, the description fit anyone you can think of?" Mac looked at her quizzically.

"Not off-hand. Could be lots of men." Lindsay looked Mac in the face, then continued cryptically, "Peter wasn't that tall, maybe 5'6", but _most_ cops I know in Montana top 6'2" easy."

Danny's face flickered into a momentary grimace. Hawkes and Flack glanced at each other. They were obviously missing something here.

Mac nodded crisply. "Let's start with the phones, see where that takes us. This remains an open and ongoing investigation. Lindsay, you are not to be alone," he raised his hand to stop her automatic protest, "at least not on the street. Sorry, but I'm not taking any chances. Something had upped this guy's anxiety from a call every few days to several a day, as well as stalking. Let's figure it out before he takes the next step, okay?" Mac was sorry that his words increased Danny's worry, but he had to make sure Lindsay was listening to him.

She nodded, resigned. In fact, Danny thought, she was a little too resigned altogether. He was going to watch her to make sure this wasn't all some ruse to make everyone relax before she went off on her own to do some detecting.

As they left Mac's office to start the investigation into the phone calls, Hawkes stopped Danny, letting Lindsay get far enough ahead that she wouldn't hear him. "Is there something we don't know, Messer?" Flack turned to hear the answer, and Danny looked at the two concerned men in front of him and couldn't lie.

"Yes, there's something you don't know. If this doesn't get cleared up quickly, I will go down on my hands and knees to convince Lindsay to tell you both. Until then, I can't tell you anything she didn't."

Flack blew out a frustrated breath and Hawkes rolled his eyes. "Man, I am getting tired of this," Flack muttered as Danny walked off.

"Me too, but I guess it isn't very fair to ask him to choose between us and his wife."

"Yeah? I figure all's fair in war." Flack muttered.

"We aren't at war yet, Flack." Hawkes looked at him with some amusement.

"Some asshole hurts Lindsay and we don't know enough to stop it, the war will be on," Flack shot back.

Hawkes could only nod his agreement to that.

Danny caught up with Lindsay in the lab as she started the request process for their phone records. "This feels weird," he started, trying to broach the subject of telling everything she knew.

"Are you afraid I'll find out something incriminating about your phone habits, Messer?" She smirked at him, a near perfect copy of his cheeky grin.

"Hey, those calls are all to my mother, I swear!" He wanted to keep things light and joking, but it was too hard at the moment. He wasn't used to this type of fear, a constant grinding feeling of not being able to breathe quite deep enough to feel comfortable. "Lindsay, Hawkes and Flack should probably have a little more background on the situation."

Lindsay closed her eyes for a minute, and Danny could tell her calm demeanour was hard won. "Danny, I know you think the man you saw following me was one of my brothers…"

"Or your dad?" Danny interjected quietly.

"Or my dad, but I promise you, if you were accurate, it couldn't be. My dad is 6' 2", and he is the shortest in the family other than me. All the boys are at least two inches taller than him. And none of my nephews are old enough to be here on their own – he didn't look like a teenager, did he, this guy?"

Danny shook his head; the guy had not moved like a teenaged kid. "Older guy, for sure, maybe late fifties, early sixties."

"So it isn't any of my family, I'm sure of that, or Peter, who is about 35 now, I guess. I did wonder for a minute if the phone calls were from someone I knew, but then the number should have come up as one I recognized. I'm positive this isn't anyone from my family." Lindsay glanced at him quickly. How could she explain that she almost wished it were one of her brothers, or even more, her father? At least it would mean they hadn't completely forgotten about her.

Danny idly ran his hand down her back the way he had when they were first together, but had stopped doing when she started shutting him out a few weeks ago. Lindsay hadn't even realized how much she had missed it until she felt that soothing comfort again. She closed her eyes in relief and leaned against him for a minute; whatever else happened, they were going to be okay.

"Let's check these records. At least that's something we can do." Danny turned to the computer screen and started scrolling down.

Mac sat in his office for a few minutes, looking through the notes he had made while Danny and Lindsay talked. He looked up when his office door blew open. "Hurricane Stella up and running," he thought in wry amusement.

"Why didn't you call me in on Lindsay's case?" Stella demanded.

"We have other cases," Mac started, but he didn't have a chance.

"I can't believe you would keep me off something like this, Mac. How could you? Why would you? Don't you think I can work a case involving one of my friends? Don't you think I am capable of dealing with things? What – just because I'm pregnant, I'm not an investigator any more?"

As Stella raged on, Mac closed his eyes. Sometimes, he felt more like a high school biology teacher dealing with hormone crises than the lieutenant of a Crime Lab. "Stella. Stella!" He finally got through to her, and she sat down in the chair in front of his desk suddenly, all her steam gone. "You're on the case. I didn't call you in before your shift started because it didn't seem necessary. I'm sorry if you thought you were being overlooked."

Stella just stared at him. Finally, she said quietly, "Do you think she's in danger?"

"I'm not happy about what appears to be a case of stalking. When we know who he is, we'll have a better idea of what danger he may present."

"What can I do?" Stella stood and waited for an assignment.

"Danny and Lindsay are checking the phone records now. If they get anything, we'll go from there." Mac's phone rang, and Stella turned to go as he picked it up. "Lieutenant Taylor."

"Lieutenant Taylor, this is Lieutenant Gray in Bozeman, Montana. I understand that you have a detective on your team going by the name of Monroe?"

Mac stiffened. His voice was clipped when he answered. "May I have your full name, please, sir?"

"My name is Evan Gray. I am Lindsay Gray's father, and I have some information for you."


	29. Chapter 29: Big Sky Country

Chapter 29: Big Sky Country

Mac froze. This couldn't be good. His reason reasserted itself: it may not even be true.

"Lieutenant Gray," he said stiffly. "You understand I will have to verify this call."

A brief sigh of disgust came over the line. "You do what you have to, Taylor. I'll be waiting to talk to you when you finish jumping through your hoops." The phone was hung up, none too gently.

Stella had stopped in the doorway, and was watching Mac's face. "Who was that?"

"He says he's Lindsay's father. He had the name right, I'll give him that." Mac, of course, knew the details of Lindsay's career in Montana, including her change of name.

"Trace the call, would you, Stel?" He picked up the phone and requested the official number for the Bozeman Montana police station, and the office of one Lieutenant Evan Gray in particular. By the time he had that information, which agreed with his caller ID, Stella was back with the trace. Seeing as everything checked out, Mac picked up his phone to re-dial the number, then stopped.

"Know what? I think Lindsay deserves to hear this. Go and ask her to come here, could you please, Stella?" Mac leaned back in his chair while Stella rushed off to find Lindsay. He was tired of secrets that hurt his people. Lindsay was going to have to come clean if she was ever going to face her demons. It was time to deal with her past once and for all before it buried her.

Stella came into the lab, her hand pressed to her belly. "Oooh, that's a longer way than it was a few months ago," she huffed. Danny looked at her with alarm written all over his face. "Don't worry: I'm not in labour. Good grief, Messer, I still have nearly three months to go! Lindsay," Stella's laughter stilled as she turned to the young woman, "Your father called from Montana. Mac checked: it seems legit. He wants you in the office when he calls him back."

Lindsay nearly collapsed into the chair behind her. Danny crouched beside her, holding her hand and stroking her hair. "Hey, hey, easy there. You don't have to talk to him, you know. You don't even have to be there, does she, Stella?"

Stella matched his fierce glare with a small shrug. If Mac wanted her there, she'd be there, like it or not. They all knew that.

Lindsay stood up with a gasp, "No. No. I want to be there. It's okay, Danny, I'm okay. It was just a surprise. I want to hear him. Maybe he knows something about this. I mean, why else would he call, after all this time?"

Danny kept an arm around her; she was shaking so hard he was afraid she would fall. "Then we'll go to Mac's office, honey. It's okay; we'll all be there for you."

When they got to Mac's office, a pale Lindsay sat on the couch in the corner where Mac motioned her. Danny sat on the arm beside her, still with his arm around her shoulders. Stella and Hawkes were sitting in chairs closer to the desk. Don was on a call, but Stella would update him as needed.

"I'm going to phone back and see what he wants, Lindsay. If you want to talk to him, just let me know. I'll leave everything up to you. You sure you're okay?" Mac quirked an eyebrow at her and smiled in approval when she nodded. He dialed the number of the Bozeman police station, asked for the extension, and put the phone on speaker.

"Lieutenant Gray? This is Detective Mac Taylor, New York Crime Lab, returning your call. How may I help you?" This was Mac at his most official, Danny noticed, and wondered what Gray had done to piss him off.

The voice that came over the speaker was equally brisk, "Detective. I'll say it again; I have information on Detective Lindsay Gray, who I believe is using the name Monroe in your precinct."

Danny growled low. The man damn well knew she was using the name Messer, as Lindsay had sent a forlorn-hope wedding invitation to Bozeman more than six months ago. Mac shot him a glare.

"Lindsay Monroe is a detective on my team, yes sir." Mac was determined to give no more information than he had to.

"I have been asked to contact you by my captain." Evan Gray's voice left no one in any doubt as to how he felt about that. "The former captain of our precinct, Rod Strangways, has been released from prison. Captain Johnston felt Detective … Monroe … should be informed."

Danny would have sworn he could hear the remaining blood leave Lindsay's face. She swayed against him. Mac glanced at her, but continued with the conversation unperturbed.

"Strangways would be one of the people Detective Monroe put in jail for corruption? How is it that he is out in less than three years?" Mac's voice was cool but non-judgmental. He had dealt with enough cases to know how the court system worked.

They could all hear the sigh, "Made a deal, gave information, usual shit. Point is he's out, he's left the state, and he's pissed, according to someone he talked with in the can. Captain Johnston is concerned he may be coming after … Lindsay." There was another moment's pause before he said the name of his daughter.

"This is the man who threatened her before the trial, is it not?" Mac went on, his voice still cool.

"So she testified, yes."

"Do you not believe her?" Mac's voice was heating up as he watched Lindsay. She stared at the phone as if she could see through the wires to her father's face.

"I did not call to debate this issue with you, Detective. I was asked to pass on a warning, which I have done. I trust that you will tell Detective Gray what I have said?"

Danny jumped up like a rocket about to go off. Lindsay looked around in alarm: Stella had her teeth and hands clenched, Mac looked livid, and even Hawkes, normally the most composed of men, was shaking with anger. If she didn't do something quickly, the speakers on the phone would blow out when they all went off.

"Dad, I'm here. It's Lindsay."

Everyone in the room turned away from her when she spoke, as if to give her the illusion of privacy, except for Danny, who held her hand. To her own surprise, her voice was strong and calm.

Evan Gray's, on the other hand, was not as calm. "Lindsay? I didn't know you were there. Are you all right?" She closed her eyes as she heard his voice break momentarily, and gently removed her hand from Danny's, moving to stand in front of the phone.

"Yes, Dad. I'm fine. Would you thank Captain Johnston for me? Tell him I appreciate the courtesy of letting me know about Strangways. Tell him … tell him I think Strangways may be in New York. Could you have the file faxed to the New York Crime Lab, please?" Lindsay stood, feet apart, hands behind her back, as if on parade in front of a superior officer, which, Danny supposed, she technically was.

"Has he contacted you, Lindsay? Are you sure you're okay?" This time everyone heard the concern in Evan Gray's voice, and around the room, people relaxed.

Lindsay, however, still stood in the "at ease" position, her face calm and set. "Sir. He has not contacted me directly. With Detective Taylor's permission, I will send a copy of the report to you when the case is closed."

There was a brief pause, and when Lieutenant Gray responded, his voice was crisp and clear again. "That would be appreciated. Detective Taylor, with your permission? I'll call again if we learn any more here in Montana." With that, the connection was cut.

Lindsay stood for a minute, then walked blindly out of the room. Danny went to follow her, but Stella beat him to it. "Give us a minute, okay? You can't follow her in to the women's room anyway."

"Wannna bet? You got two minutes before I come in." Danny's husky voice seemed to be stuck in his throat, but his meaning was clear.

Hawkes watched Stella move down the hall after Lindsay, his face still set. "You think they build them all like that in Montana?"

Mac nodded, "Tough, that's for sure."

Hawkes finally smiled, "And a bit bloody-minded."

Danny sighed, "And as stubborn as hell."


	30. Chapter 30: Stalking Wild Game

_A/N: Thanks again to all my reviewers, including a few new ones. Somehow I lost my note last time I posted, so I'd like to thank Chocobetty again for her corrections re: Mac's rank - he would use Detective, not Lieutenant._

_Disclaimer: Characters belong to CBS and the creators of CSI:NY._

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**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 30: Stalking Wild Game

Lindsay was already washing her face by the time Stella caught up with her in the washroom, but the smell told Stella all she needed to know. Without a word, she reached in her pocket and pulled out a roll of breath mints, offering one to Lindsay. "Never leave home without them any more."

Smiling wanly, Lindsay took one and crunched it a little viciously between her teeth before grabbing some paper towel and wiping her face.

"So, has he always been an asshole?" Stella was looking at herself in the mirror, and glanced casually at Lindsay as she spoke.

As she hoped, Lindsay gave a shocked giggle before sighing. "No. He was always pretty stiff, you know? But I remember him before my mom got sick; he could be fun when he was off-duty. And when Mom got sick, he was so patient and kind. Then she died, and he faded out. I mean he was always there. Made dinner, did laundry. But the 'family' was at the police station."

"So you had to become a cop to get back into the family?" Stella's quiet voice was matter-of-fact; she thought any more sympathy would break the young woman to pieces.

"Hmmm. Then I had to go after the 'family' to get rid of the bad guys. Worse, my oldest brother, Tim, was one of them." Lindsay found that saying it this time was not as bad as the first time with Danny. It was as if telling him had relieved the worst of the poison, leaving behind only an ache.

"I'm sorry, Lindsay. I don't know what it would be like to grow up in a family that at odds with itself," Stella said carefully, "but I bet there's someone waiting outside by now, and he would know exactly what that was like."

Lindsay focused her attention on the hallway outside of the washroom, and could hear pacing, interspersed with the occasional noise as if someone was hitting or kicking the wall in frustration. "It's been a difficult few weeks," she said, in a masterful understatement.

"I have a feeling that things are going to get better. Go and relieve Danny before he breaks something. We'll find this guy and send him back to the wild horses; then we can get on with more important things." Stella gave her a hug, and suddenly stopped dead. "Ohh."

Lindsay looked at her in alarm, "What? What's wrong?"

Stella grabbed her hand and laid it on her belly, just below her ribs. "Baby's kicking. Feel that!"

Lindsay could feel the rhythmic tap of the baby inside Stella trying to get more comfortable. Her face lit up in a look of awe. "Oh Stella! This is going to be a strong baby! Just feel."

"Believe me, I can! It feels a lot stronger from in here." Stella's smile was so bright Lindsay felt blinded. "Go. Talk to Danny. You're going to be fine."

Lindsay walked out of the washroom and straight into Danny's arms. He pulled her close and kissed her long and hard. She was smiling when he released her. "Y'alright?" His voice was uncertain.

"You know what? I really am. It's going to be okay, Danny. Let's go finish looking at the phone records. I want this over and done with."

"Lindsay," Danny grabbed her hand as she turned to go back to the lab. "Are we on the right track? Could the guy who followed you be this Strangways?"

She bit her lip as she thought about it, then nodded, "He was about the right height. He wasn't that heavy when I worked for him, but that could change. And the hair may not even be his, or could be dyed; he was getting pretty grey. I'd say on balance it's a good possibility."

"At least that gives us something solid to work on." Danny sighed with relief. He'd hate to get distracted now.

It took a few hours, but they eventually had the results logged and up on the computer. Hawkes and Danny were looking it over, trying to come up with some sort of pattern.

"Well, when did you begin to notice them?" Hawkes asked logically.

"The first time I remember thinking about it was the night of Don and Stella's wedding." Danny highlighted that date, October 24, on the printout. "We had a hang-up on the machine, and I thought that was odd, 'cuz we'd had a few already that week. I assumed it was a telemarketer, 'cuz the calls came up blocked."

"Right," said Hawkes. "And here's that call. From a payphone, traced to a prison in Montana."

"Like all the calls on Lindsay's phone before we got married. It's the prison Strangways was in, but there's no evidence it was him: could have been lots of the people in there. Detective Gray had an impressive arrest rate before she came to civilization." He barely grunted when Lindsay came up behind him and punched him on the shoulder.

"Walk down any street in New York and tell me it's civilized, Messer," she teased.

"Right," Hawkes said again, seemingly ignoring the couple's bickering, but actually pleased that they were back to something approaching normal. "And here's the call on New Year's Eve, which was when you started actually tracking, Danny?"

Danny nodded, his hand automatically rubbing Lindsay's back.

"Fits. It's from a pre-paid cell phone. Calls started increasing the last week in October, still from pay phones out of state. By the end of December there are sporadic calls from Chicago, Columbus, Philadelphia. Then by New Year's, the calls are coming exclusively from pre-paid cell phones, which can't be traced."

"Which means he was traveling before Christmas – maybe by bus? – but was here by New Year's," Danny concluded.

Stella walked up, waving the file faxed from Montana. "That jives with this information: Strangways was released middle of November; missed his first "transition" meeting two weeks before Christmas. No parole because he made a deal: pled guilty to a misdemeanor, time served."

"So he got on the move and ended up here, looking for Montana. Sorry, I mean Lindsay," Danny corrected himself; it was confusing enough without adding the complication of the nickname. "He knew she was here; he must have known that she'd changed her name from Gray to Monroe."

The rest of the team looked at her for an explanation. She shrugged. "I took the name of Anna Monroe, my mentor in the Crime Investigations Unit in Montana. My family wasn't exactly singing my praises. It seemed easier when I moved here to make the break." She kept her voice as strong as possible, but some her emotion must have come through, judging by the way her colleagues all suddenly found something other than her to look at.

Danny cleared his throat and began talking again, "So, he's been tracking her since he went in. He knew when she moved to New York. Look; the first call was only two months after she started here. Linds, where did you live when you first got to New York?"

"In a hotel downtown, the Royal, for a couple of weeks. It was pretty self-serve; I don't remember any calls to my room."

Lindsay's face was once again alive and bright with curiosity, Danny noticed with relief. She obviously needed to keep busy, and his instinct to keep her under wraps was one he'd have to fight.

"So, he can't find her in a hotel," Danny started.

"Which means he probably didn't have an insider feeding him information," Stella continued.

"But he did have access to some way to get information," Hawkes added.

"Internet?" Lindsay completed the thought. "He could have access at the prison. I was in the New York directory. What about other things, though?"

"Google?" Stella suggested.

"That seems too easy." Danny objected.

"Let's see." Stella turned to one of the lab's computers, opened and typed in "Lindsay Gray + Monroe".

"Wow. Look at that, Miz Monroe. You're famous!" Danny blinked as several thousand hits showed up on the screen. When he and Flack had investigated Lindsay months ago, they used the name she had taken from her mentor, Anna Monroe, so they had only been able to trace her back about five years. With her family name added, the number of hits increased dramatically.

"They can't all be me," Lindsay said in shock. "I haven't done that much."

Stella had been flipping through some of the pages. "You've done enough. There are perhaps a couple dozen articles here that mention you, both from Montana and New York. And I think I know why he suddenly started calling more." They all turned to the computer screen, where a local Montana newspaper was up, dated about four weeks earlier. Under a picture of Lindsay leaving a New York courtroom, the headline read, "Bozeman's own 'Clean-Up Cop' Sweeps the Garbage out of New York Private School."

"Oh no," Lindsay groaned. "Why would they pick this up?"

Hawkes looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean? It was huge; the papers couldn't get enough of it. You, Danny, me: we were all in the paper for days. How did you miss that?"

"I try to avoid the media; real life is bad enough." Lindsay didn't look at anyone as she said it; actually for the past few months she had been too wrapped up in her own worries to pay much attention to anything else.

"Kinky sex, rich kids, big-name lawyers; all added up to a gift for the media. It got picked up all over the country." Danny glanced over at Lindsay, who was shaking her head in disbelief.

"And that's how he knew, and what brought him out of hiding. He was probably tracking you on Google." Hawkes was flipping around the pages Stella had called up. "Look at this. Every time you get a mention in the papers, there's a couple of phone calls. See, Linds? Here's a picture of the wedding party at Flack and Stella's wedding: 'Detecting Love under a Microscope.' " The people in the lab all groaned at the cheesy headline. Hawkes grinned, then pointed to the date of the phone call Danny had highlighted.

"This case really juiced him, though. In January, there were ten calls the week Smart went to trial, five alone on the day this article ran in the Montana paper. Once he had started, he couldn't stop." Stella pointed to the list of calls, showing the number increasing week by week. "This could be when he figured out where you live. Probably followed you from work."

"Once he had that information," Don interjected from the door, "It was easy to find out more. Identity theft is pretty easy for a former cop; he'd have all kinds of contacts."

"Including the ones who don't believe he was guilty," Lindsay added, then looked around at her silent friends. "Oh, come on. You know there were lots of people, including my dad, who didn't think he was guilty. He was a good cop, a well-liked boss. I liked him. He was guilty as sin, but I liked him."


	31. Chapter 31: To Find the End, Go Back

_A/N: A promise kept, melissouza!_

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 31: To Find the End, Go Back to the Beginning

Don walked into the room, his notebook open. "No Rod Strangways listed in the New York Directory. We're running down his license and ID numbers and so on, but so far, he doesn't show up in New York at all. Of course, he's probably using a different name, and again - a cop with time in the joint. He'd have no trouble getting fake ID."

"Yeah," Danny said resignedly, "He's certainly not going make it easy. We can't trace the calls 'cuz the recent ones have all been from pre-paids. We got nothing to go on." He sighed in frustration, pushing his glasses up and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Without a better physical description, with no idea what name he's using, I don't even know where to start." Hawkes agreed. "We could get a picture from Montana of Strangways and do a media call."

"But what if this guy stalking Linds isn't Strangways?" Stella objected. "We'd have everyone looking in the wrong direction, and then he could slip in under the radar."

"If not Strangways, then who?" Flack asked.

"How many guys you take down, Montana?" Danny asked, without looking at her.

"Twelve lost badges, three more went to jail." This time, her voice was subdued.

"We could check to see where they all are," Hawkes said, "Give me the names, Linds and I'll run them."

She nodded and began listing names in her strong confident handwriting. Before writing the last name, though, she hesitated a moment, then scrawled it quickly. When Hawkes read through the list and came to that name, he raised his eyebrows and started to ask Lindsay a question, but she avoided his eyes and moved closer to the display as if to check something more closely.

Hawkes input the names, and they all waited in silence for the computer to do its magic. It didn't take very long: all were known to the system. "Okay, these names check out. Most of these guys are still in Montana; nothing is popping. Of the three sent to jail, all have been released: that's Rod Strangways, Geoffrey Tanner, and Timothy Gray." Hawkes' voice dropped a little on the last name.

Lindsay bit her lip, but didn't look at the other people in the lab. Danny moved closer to comfort her, but she shook her head slightly and he stopped, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "Where's Tanner?" She asked calmly.

"He's listed here as residing in Butte. His parole officer saw him last week."

Lindsay said almost under her breath, "His mom lives in Butte. What about … Gray?"

"Listed here as in Bozeman, 4345 Alderson. Also in the parole system, also checks out."

Lindsay closed her eyes against a wave of nausea. "I guess Bethany took him back."

This time Danny didn't hesitate. He remembered her confession to him in hospital, and knew how hard putting her brother away had been on her. Her brother had taken out his frustration on his wife, who had ended up charging him with assault. Lindsay still felt responsible for that, Danny knew.

His arms went around her and she relaxed into him, giving him a hard hug for a moment before stepping away. Her busy mind could not let go of anything, even for the comfort of his embrace.

Don broke the silence. "That leaves Strangways looking as our best bet. But with no footprint in the system that ties him to New York, it's going to be hard to find him."

"Then there's only one option. I have to draw him out," Lindsay said quietly. She closed her eyes against the burst of protest from her colleagues, but they all recognized the stubborn set of her jaw.

The only one who said nothing was Danny. He just stood back, arms crossed over his chest, staring at her until she looked at him. When their eyes met, there was a moment before he cleared his throat and turned to stare blindly again at the wall screen, covered with their phone records. Almost unconsciously, he noticed a few calls in early February from their home number to a number with a Montana prefix. He wondered whether Lindsay had managed to talk to anyone when she had called, and whether it had been a brother or her father that she had tried to contact. Most of all, he wondered why she had never mentioned the attempts to him.

He broke into the raging conversation going on around him. "She'll need to be wired," he indicated his wife with a jerk of his head, his jaw tight.

"Danny," Stella breathed, shocked.

"Kevlar vest. And no one takes their eyes off her for a second. She goes out, but to a secure location. One where we can have people everywhere. You got that?" He turned on Flack with such fire in his eyes, Don stepped back as he silently nodded in agreement.

Hawkes spoke up, "You can't be serious, Danny. You'd let Lindsay…? There has to be another way."

Danny turned on him next, almost violently. "There isn't. And if you knew her, you'd know it. If we don't let this happen with back-up, she'll go without. Won't you?" He had his back to Lindsay now, and spoke over his shoulder.

She put a hand on his arm, which he shook off. She stepped back, resigned hurt in her eyes, but said firmly, "I'm a cop. I got him once; I'll get him again." There was a slight emphasis on the "I" in those sentences.

She didn't follow him when he stalked out of the lab, but turned to Don, pleading, "Go with him?"

"Don't expect me to agree with him, or with you, Lindsay. I think you are out of your mind for even thinking of it." Don followed Danny.

Lindsay turned to Stella and Hawkes. They were both staring at her in disbelief. She shrugged and said, "I'm going to talk to Mac."

"Danny, wait up." Don caught up just as Danny flew through the doors of the lab building and onto the street. "Hey. HEY!" He grabbed the shorter man's arm as Danny nearly walked in front of a car. The driver hit his horn, and Danny turned on him, cursing with a blistering fury noticeable even in New York.

"Come on, Messer, don't get yourself killed here." Don pushed him off the sidewalk into an alley, where he hoped Danny could kick garbage cans and swear to let off some steam without ending up under a car.

"Fuck it all, Don, she's going to do it, isn't she?" Danny leaned against a brick wall, feeling sick.

"Looks like it. Why did you give her the idea?" Don asked.

Danny laughed hollowly. "I didn't need to. I could see it in her. She's going after this guy. I know her."

"So we'll protect her. We'll keep her safe. I promise you, Danny, we will get this guy, and Lindsay will not get hurt."

"You can't promise me a thing. What if he has a gun? He could be three blocks away with a high-powered rifle and shoot her in the head. Kevlar won't protect her then." Danny could feel his heart freeze at the thought.

"He hasn't been violent. He hasn't made any threats. He didn't approach Linds on the street. You know what would happen if she wasn't a cop, Danny. We wouldn't even be writing this case up." Don didn't think that was right, necessarily, but they both knew it was true. Stalking had to be accompanied by a real threat before the department would even try to do something about it.

Danny groaned. "He's after her. Why? What does he want?"

Don swallowed. "She broke the code, Danny. She went after cops."

Instantly Danny turned on him, fists ready; Don stepped back, hands up defensively. "You can beat me to a pulp, Messer, if you think you can do it, but it won't change anything. You know why this Strangways can't let it go."

Danny swung, but turned in time to smash his fist into the wall instead of Don's face. Then he crumpled to the ground, leaning his head on his knees.

"Shit!" Don had tried to grab him before impact, but had been too far away. He took one look and pulled Danny to his feet. "You gotta get that looked at, man."

Danny glanced at his crushed and bleeding hand, but just shrugged. "Later. I need to talk to Mac." He walked off without looking at Flack.

Don stood for a minute, trying to control himself. Just once, he couldn't have shut up? He had strong feelings about this issue; cops go after the bad guys, not each other. Still, this was Lindsay. And last year, it had been Mac, asking him to give up a dirty cop. It went against everything he believed. Of course, so did being a dirty cop. He had gone around and around it in his head, but he always came back to that damned code. He shook his head. He didn't want to deal with this again.

He walked around the corner out of the alley and came face to face with a squad car. It made him think of the common police motto: "To Serve and Protect."

"That's it. That's all I can do: to the best of my ability, every day. And right now, Lindsay needs protection." Don returned to the lab building, where Stella was waiting for him at the top of the stairs. She pulled him inside to an empty hallway.

"What happened to Danny? He's bleeding." She was examining him a little anxiously, searching for damage.

He smiled at her wearily. "He missed. Hit the wall instead."

"Oh, Don. Not now." Stella shook her head, but put an arm around her husband and hugged him.

For a moment, he pulled her close, needing her warmth as proof against the look of betrayal Danny had seared through him. Without thinking about it, he stroked his large hand over her belly, caressing both her and the baby inside her. "How you doing? Shouldn't you be taking it easier?"

Stella shook her head. "I'm fine. Really," she insisted when he shot her a doubtful look. "Baby wants to dance though." She winced as the active little mite inside turned a somersault. "Don, here, put your hand right here."

She placed his hand high on her stomach, just under her ribs on the right side. "Do you feel that? Wait, just wait. There! Did you feel that?"

He looked at her with awe and a stunned joy. "Is that…? My God, Stella!"

She could feel the ever-easy tears gathering, but teased, "That is your baby, Detective Flack. How come he can dance when you can't?"

"Well, maybe SHE takes after her beautiful mama," he smiled into her eyes, then rested his forehead on hers for a moment, before kissing her. "I love you so much, my sweet, sweet wife."

Stella closed her eyes against the pain she could see in Don's face. Everything about this case was hard, and she could see the toll it was taking on him. She was afraid it was going to get even harder, especially if the worst happened, and somehow Don and his team couldn't protect Lindsay. At that bleak thought, she shook herself, kissed her husband, and said, "Mac wants to talk to you. He needs to set up the operation as soon as possible."

"Yeah. Let's see what he and Lindsay came up with."


	32. Chapter 32: Full Disclosure

_A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers, and to those who are readnig and (I hope) enjoying the story. Due to my workplace moving, and my losing computer access next week, I will have to a) post two (increasingly long) chapters a day or b) not post the final few chapters until after Christmas. Hmmm - what to do, what to do. Do you have an opinion? You know what to do!_

_Disclaimer: I asked for them for Christmas, but if Santa doesn't come through, then they don't belong to me!_

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**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 32: Full Disclosure

Mac had been on the phone in the meantime, talking to Greg Johnston, Lindsay's former captain in Montana.

"So you think it's possible that this Strangways is coming after Lindsay; that he could be in New York?" Mac asked.

"Well, he didn't take the whole thing well, I have to admit." Johnston spoke in a slow drawl; Mac almost expected to hear him spit after each sentence. "He was pretty mad at ending up in the local prison. I understand he was a touch immoderate in his language."

"Tell me, Captain, how did he get out if he was threatening another officer?" Mac closed his eyes in frustration. He hated having to ask every question twice to get half an answer.

"Well, like Evan Gray told you, he had information and made a deal. About ten months ago, he contacted the DA and offered up several drug dealers in exchange for a reduced sentence. The DA's office couldn't pass it up."

"Even though it could put Detective Gray in danger?"

"She was gone. Once she'd moved on to New York, we didn't think she'd be in much danger. And although she said he'd threatened her, all the messages she had saved were pretty innocuous. I mean, if you piled them altogether, you could see a problem, but individually not a big deal. Thought she was exaggerating rather, actually. She liked the limelight a bit." Johnston's voice was cool. Obviously, he was not going to accept any responsibility for this situation.

"Well, now I have one of my best people being stalked by someone who certainly knows how to work the system. What can you tell me about him?" Mac believed in knowing his enemy; it had kept him alive more than once.

As Johnston filled in some of the information that was not in Strangways' file, Mac took notes and wrote thoughts about possible lines of investigation in the margins of his paper. He rubbed his forehead tiredly; he was already on a double shift and things were not looking good for a break any time soon. He couldn't see any other way to find Strangways; the man knew how to stay below the radar, and he was, according to Johnston, not only smart but ex-military. Mac wasn't going to kid himself; all of that was going to make him very hard to find.

He looked up to see Lindsay standing at his office door. She was paler now than she had been before but he could see that determined look on her face, the one which meant she had already made up her mind about something. He motioned for her to come in and sit down, while he spoke into the phone.

"Well, Captain, thanks for the information. I wish we had heard about this earlier. I promised to send Lieutenant Gray a copy of the report once the case is wrapped up. Let's hope we wrap it up without losing any of my officers." He cut off the other man's expostulations by gently hanging up the phone.

"Lindsay."

"Mac, I'm sorry to bring this on the department." She felt that she had to constantly apologize for the tired anger in Mac's eyes, for the agony she saw in Danny's, the panicked worry in Stella's, even the slight distaste in Don's because she had gone after 'family'.

Mac waved a hand in the air, wiping out her words as if they had not been said. "You're ours now, Detective. We will make sure that you are safe."

"No, sir." Lindsay knew perfectly well that Mac didn't like to be called sir; in fact, it was the first thing she'd learned about Mac, thanks to Danny.

Mac knew perfectly well that Lindsay called him "sir" when she was about to force him to either pull rank or be convinced otherwise by her.

"You know as well as I do that Strangways isn't going to be easy to find. Why should he be on the grid at all? He lives in the biggest city in the States; he can survive on odd jobs and cash. He can live in shelters or cheap hotels; he never has to give the same name twice. There's only one way to force him out."

"No. Lindsay." Mac had to take a breath before he went on. Damn it all anyway. Why hadn't he anticipated this? He must be tired. "It's not safe."

"Neither's her wandering around town waiting for him to come after her on her own." Danny's voice was cold and impassive; he was leaning against the open door, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. His eyes were on Mac's face, avoiding Lindsay.

Lindsay looked at him, then away with a touch of shame. She should have waited and talked to him first, she knew, but she was burning with the need to get this over with, to take her life back. She had to do this. That secret voice deep inside her said, "At least, you might be able to manage to do this." She turned back to Mac.

"I'll do it safely, I promise. I'll take whatever precautions you and Don want. Danny can be as close as possible, or as far away as he needs to be. I'm just asking … Mac, this is my fight. I took him down once, and it was a good collar. He did everything he was accused of. He was running a prostitution ring with high school girls, running drugs into the elementary schools. When I went to arrest him, he laughed. He told me not to bother: that he'd just get out and start again somewhere else."

As she was speaking, her voice rising with passion, Stella, Don, and Hawkes arrived at the office, quietly moving around Danny, who had not left his post. Stella sat down beside Lindsay and put an arm around her, hearing the shake in her voice.

Lindsay spoke directly to Don, who was now sitting in a chair across the room, his hands clasped in front of him. "He told me that there were worse people out there than him, and that if I stood down, he would see that I had every opportunity to get those other people off the street. When I told him to put his hands behind his back, he just shook his head, as if he was disappointed in me. That's when he told me that my dad's best friend, Ralph Stroschein, was involved, and my brother Tim. Well, I knew that already; we had been investigating for months. Other officers were arresting them at that moment. But, me, I had to be in on the big one."

Don's face was still. He hated this, hated everything about it. Cops didn't do this; cops were the good guys. No cop should have to go after another one. Even though he knew better, even though he himself had been involved with bringing in dirty cops, he could never face it without feeling soiled himself. However, Lindsay was looking at him with such trust in her face, such belief that he would understand what she had done, that he couldn't let her down. He smiled at her briefly, then dropped his eyes to look at his hands, which were twisting around each other.

Lindsay swallowed. No one spoke, and it was hard, so hard to expose herself for the puffed-up little over-confident snot she had been then. "That's when Strangways laughed. He told me I hadn't got the half of it: that my dad and brothers Michael and Jason, even Peter, were knee deep in shit too, and if I didn't want to destroy everything I should just walk away now. I was sure he was wrong. But for a moment, I had to wonder. And he knew it, the bastard, and he laughed again."

Still no one spoke. With a deep breath, she continued, "I just cuffed him and handed him over to the uniforms I had with me. He stopped laughing then. He told me not to get too comfortable; that I would never see him coming."

Now Lindsay's eyes were on Danny, still standing at the door. "And he was right. In spite of everything, he found me, and I never saw him coming. But you did, Danny."

Finally, he moved towards her, crouching in front of the chair she was sitting on. His hands reached out to cup her face, and he touched her lips with his. "Promise me." He didn't need to say anything else; she knew.

"I promise. Danny, I promise." She reached up to cover his hands with hers, and saw the flash of agony cross his face.

When she saw the mess the wall had made of his hand, felt his blood on her palm, all the control she had worked so hard for dissolved, and she burst into tears.


	33. Chapter 33: Setting the Trap

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 33: Setting the Trap

While Mac and the team discussed how to set bait, Hawkes grabbed Danny and took him downstairs to x-ray and bandage his hand. When Danny tried to protest, one look at Mac's face had dried him up. Lindsay had stopped crying nearly immediately, but she had a frozen look in her eyes that Danny couldn't stand.

He sat in the lab while the machine more usually used on cadavers took pictures of his hand. Pain and fear, guilt and anger, all twisted in his gut until he thought he could hear it roiling around. He didn't respond to Hawkes, who finally just came out and moved Danny's hand himself to take the three required x-rays. He came back out with the films and put them up on the light box.

"Fourth and fifth metacarpal bones are broken; doctors call this the 'boxer's fracture', or more commonly the 'brawler's fracture', seeing as real boxers know better than to go bare-fisted. What did you hit? A brick wall?" Hawkes had cleaned the hand before taking x-rays, and had noted the brick dust in the abrasions on Danny's hand.

"It was either that or Flack, and I think Stella is kinda fond of him," Danny muttered.

"She's a little fond of you, too, you know. In fact, lots of people are." Hawkes voice was quiet as he turned to find casting material in the lab. The hand was going to need to be immobilized. He was having trouble finding anything, though; usually the patients in the morgue were no longer concerned with immobilization.

Danny just shrugged. "How am I supposed to do this, Shel?"

"Bravely, I should think. You've never had a problem with that in the past, including jumping off buildings and various other stupid stunts."

"That's not bravery. That's just reaction."

"Look, Danny, no one said you have to like this or even be good about it. You're going to have to trust Lindsay to be smart and tough and capable."

"She is all those things," Danny shot back.

"Yeah, and for some reason, you can't keep that in your head. You always want to rescue her. I do get why, but you step all over her when you do it."

"Teach me how to step back, Shel, 'cuz I don't see any way to do that."

Hawkes had finally found a brace to keep Danny's hand still, covering the bandages over the abrasions. "You're going to need to see an orthopedic surgeon tomorrow, Danny. The hand may need to be operated on, but this will keep you from making things worse today. And, Danny?" He waited until Danny's weary eyes met his. "This isn't about you."

Then he stabbed Danny in the arm with a hypodermic needle full of painkiller.

Meanwhile, Stella was back in the bathroom, holding Lindsay's hair back and rubbing her back while she vomited into the sink. In between bouts of retching, Lindsay was crying again, her nose running and eyes streaming violently. She had made it through a few more minutes of the meeting in Mac's office before abruptly leaving, followed by Stella.

"Come on, Lindsay, just breathe, honey. That's it, that's the way. Breathe in slowly, and out. It's all going to be okay, I promise you." Stella's words were soothing if meaningless at first, but eventually Lindsay listened to the instructions and began to breath, through her mouth at first, then, after using the handful of toilet paper Stella handed her, through her nose. She took a few gulping breaths as her sobbing slowed, and accepted the breath mint Stella automatically handed her.

"I'm okay. Really. I just…seeing Danny torn up…it just…I still don't know how to DO this!" She burst out in frustration.

"Do what?" Stella asked calmly.

"Do my job and worry about someone else all the time." Lindsay sighed as she once again washed her face in cool water. She felt like she had spent the whole day in this washroom with the acrid smell of vomit, the sharp taste of mint, the cool feel of water, and the soothing sound of Stella's voice. "What the hell was he thinking? Sometimes I wonder if he'll ever grow up!"

"Well, he wasn't thinking, and he won't start to think again until you are out of danger. So you better do what you need to do and get everything back to whatever we call normal around here." Stella knew her voice was unsympathetic; she also knew Lindsay would react to that better than any more comforting. "Come on; they're waiting. This party can't get started without you."

The team had collected in Mac's office again, but Danny was waiting outside the door when Stella and Lindsay got there. "Stel, I need a minute, 'kay?" His eyes were on his wife's white face.

Stella desperately wanted to tell him to go easy, but she knew there was a time for even the closest friend to just back off and let people deal with their own shit. She walked into the office and closed the door behind her, then sat beside Don with a sigh, holding her hands over her eyes. He rubbed a hand over her shoulders, looking at her worriedly.

"You okay, Stel?" he said quietly. She was looking pale and strained, and he couldn't help worrying about the effect on both her and the baby.

She smiled back at him, "You could keep doing that. I'll be fine as soon as this is over with."

In the hallway, Lindsay looked at Danny. "I'm sorry, Danny, I'm so sorry for all of this…" she started.

He put a gentle finger on her mouth, and said, "You can do this, Lindsay. You can do it this time because you did it before. You'll find him, and you'll bring him in. And I'll be wherever you want me to be. Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it." His blue eyes were mesmerizing; she could almost feel her strength and confidence flooding back into her.

She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him, silently promising him the only way she could that they would walk away together at the end of the day. She could feel his heart speed up and broke off the kiss before they melted. "Let's go talk about where you're going to be."

As it turned out, the plan was reasonably simple. A meeting in judges' chambers would be announced with Detective Lindsay Messer as the main witness. An intimation that she was being investigated herself would be leaked; a friendly reporter had already been offered an exclusive if she co-operated. Times would be carefully dropped, both for leaving the precinct and arriving at the courthouse. Lindsay would be highly visible on the street in both places. Luckily, both were busy enough spots that surveillance could be kept, including aerial and sharpshooters as well as people on the street.

The only problem was that it would take a few days to set up. Lindsay had argued for an even easier plan – just walking out onto the street and seeing what happened, but Mac and Don had shut that idea down without even discussion.

"So what do we do until then?" Danny asked. He was sitting beside Lindsay, and although they were not touching, they seemed to be a unit again.

Don laid it out, "We got a couple options. You could stay here," – both Danny and Lindsay grimaced at the thought – "You could go to a safe house, or you could just go home. As long as you are together, he's unlikely to attempt contact with Lindsay."

"We could make assurance double sure by having me or Don go with you. I don't think he's going to go after a group," Hawkes jumped in.

Lindsay spoke up, though her voice was quiet. "I'd like to go home, if everyone thinks that would be safe. I just want…" her voice faded out.

"To go home," Stella finished for her. "What do you think, Mac?"

Mac frowned, watching Lindsay and Danny carefully. He wanted to make sure they got through the next few days, of course, but he wanted them to make it beyond that, as far into the future as they could get. "I think you need to go home. Hawkes and Don will go with you. Keep it casual, guys, friends going out, then home. Don't let anything spook this guy. If he goes underground, we may never find him."

Hawkes and Don both nodded. They all knew the risks of letting Lindsay out on the street, but they could see that she was exhausted. She needed to feel safe, and her own home was the best place for that.

Don added, "We'll wire the house and tap the phones. Anything in or out, we'll know. No take-out, no calls. You guys know this stuff, but it's easy to forget. You stay put until we set up the deal with the media and the judge."

Danny turned to Lindsay, "You're going to get muddy on this one, Montana. We need him to feel that you're getting a taste of your own medicine. You up for that?"

"I need one thing first." She looked around the room, at the people who had been her friends and support when her own family had cut her loose. "I need to know that you all think I did the right thing." She knew she was pushing, especially with Don, but she needed to know. In order to come to terms with her actions in the past, in Montana, she needed to know.


	34. Chapter 34: The Trap Gets Sprung

_A/N: Thanks to my faithful reviewers - this would not be happening without all of you. These are two of my favorite chapters, so let me know how you like them!_

_Disclaimer: All characters from the show belong to the creative team at CSI:NY and CBS. All others belong to themselves, but they come and play with me sometimes._

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 34: The Trap Gets Sprung

Lindsay's question hung on the air, a little tremulous. "I need to know that you all think I did the right thing."

Mac was nodding before her voice stopped. "Yes," he stated positively. "Even if it hadn't been drugs and teen-age prostitutes, you had to do what you could to stop it. The police have to be above reproach."

Danny, too, reacted before she finished, his voice saying softly, "You know. When you told me in the hospital. I said you were right."

Hawkes was only a moment behind the other two men in his nod and quiet, "Had to be done, Lindsay."

Stella crossed the room and took her hand. "Lindsay, you could only do what you thought was right. I've never known you to back down from anything. If you went after these guys, it's because it was the right thing to do."

That left Don in the middle of a silence that grew uncomfortably around him, although actually it was only a minute or so before he threw his hands up in the air and growled, "Yes. Okay? Yes. It had to be done. I'm sorry it had to be done by you, Lindsay. It's just…no one should have to do it."

Lindsay walked over and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you, Don."

Don cleared his throat. "Let's just finish this thing, okay?"

There were details to set up, people to inform, deals to make. In fact, it was nearly two hours later that Danny, Lindsay, Don, and Hawkes left the precinct together. Mac was getting ready to go home and try to catch some sleep, although he suspected that he would end up catching a nap in the station as often happened when things went crazy.

Stella was still on shift, and everyone had vetoed her being on protection detail anyway. Danny had the last word: "You're not exactly light on your feet, Bonasera." He suffered the outraged smack to back of the head as a small price to pay for keeping Stella and the baby safe. Don's grateful look took some of the sting out.

"Try to look normal, at least, guys," Stella grumbled. "You look like you're escorting a prisoner to solitary."

"Or leading a funeral procession," Lindsay thought, but wisely did not say. Out loud, she said, "Come on, guys. We're going to go have coffee, and then you're going to walk me home. Not a big deal, okay?"

Don gave Stella a quick kiss, but she pulled him closer and kissed him hard. "Be careful," she said in a barely audible voice. Nearly everyone she cared about in the world was walking out the door.

He nodded, briefly, his mind already focused at the job on hand.

"Let's go," Danny couldn't help it that his voice was gruff and a little cold; it was that or not speak at all. He could feel the tension curled up in his stomach, struggling to get out. He took Lindsay's right hand in his left, and stuck his other hand into his coat pocket so Hawkes wouldn't notice he had taken off the brace and left it in the office. He couldn't reach his gun holster if his hand was immobile, and there was no way he wasn't reaching for his gun if something happened.

The four swung out of the precinct doors in formation. In spite of their best attempts, they couldn't help but move together, the three men surrounding Lindsay, all on alert for any movement that could be considered threatening. They scanned the street continually. Lindsay tried to start a conversation, but the only one who responded at all was Hawkes, and even he just asked her what she had said. She rolled her eyes and gave up. If Strangways was watching, she thought with a glimmer of humour, the rumours of her being under investigation were certainly going to gain credence. She looked like she was already under police escort.

They went into the local coffee shop, where the barista automatically began building their favorite drinks: a latte for Hawkes, espresso for Danny, Americano for Don, and a mocha for Lindsay. They sat in the corner so the room would be under surveillance and waited in near silence for their drinks to be up.

"We can't just sit here not talking, guys. This is ridiculous. Have none of you ever been undercover?" Lindsay hissed. She was finding the Kevlar vest under her jacket uncomfortably warm in the shop.

"Sorry, Montana," Danny muttered. "It's a little hard to come up with casual conversation."

"Tongue-tied, Messer? And Flack, too? I never thought I'd see the day." Lindsay grinned as she started to get up to grab her drink, which was up along with the rest of them.

"Sit still," Don growled, and stood to bring over the drinks. He was standing between the counter and the table when it happened.

The door burst open and three tall men, broad through the shoulders and moving as if they were used to more space, came through. The one in front stepped forward quickly, calling out, "Lindsay?"

Before he could take another step, Don had him bent double over the counter, coffee and tables flying to the ground.

Danny shouted, "Freeze! New York Police," and pushed Lindsay under the table they were sitting at, while pulling out his gun, and covering the other two men.

Hawkes, too, had his gun steadily pointing at the intruders, who stopped dead and put their hands out. It was obvious from the way their coats hung that they were wearing gun holsters, but neither attempted to draw his weapon.

People in the shop were screaming, running for cover, and generally carrying on. Don raised his voice, "Hey! Everyone shut up. Police." To his vague surprise, that did not seem to calm people down. In a moment, the shop was nearly empty except for the two workers cowering behind the counter, the three strangers, and the New York cops.

When the man he was holding against the counter, hands cuffed behind him, pushed to get up, Don simply leaned against him, reached around and took his weapon from him, handing it to Hawkes. "Stay put."

Lindsay was struggling up from under the table, "Danny. DANNY! Stop! It's all right. It's okay. Let him go, Don." She was on her feet now, gasping for breath. She had never been so scared in her life, but she spoke slowly, so that nothing worse happened. "How many people's lifetimes can flash before your eyes at one time?" she wondered frantically.

"Joey. Joey?" She dashed under Danny's protective arm and threw herself on the young man still being held effortlessly by Don. "Are you okay? Don, take the cuffs off. Everyone, stand down. STAND DOWN!" At the insistence on her voice, Hawkes slowly put his gun down. It took a few minutes for her voice to penetrate the haze of fear Danny was in, but after a moment, he also thumbed the safety back on his gun and stood down.

Don eased up on the one he had against the counter, but refused to let go until he was clear on what was happening. "You know them?"

Lindsay rolled her eyes, "Danny Messer, Don Flack, Sheldon Hawkes, meet three of my brothers: that's Mike Gray. The big one is Jason. And the one you are currently crushing to death is Joey. Let him go, Don. I can kick his ass if he gets out of hand."

Danny took a deep breath. Well, that was a fine way to meet your in-laws. The only thing better would be to actually shoot one of them before the introductions. He stuffed his gun back in his holster as Don took the cuffs off the youngest Gray brother, and Hawkes handed back his regulation firearm. Lindsay was standing back on her heels, her arms crossed, a steely look on her face which Danny was having trouble reading. Someone was in for a shower of shit; he just wasn't sure if it was him or the whole group.


	35. Chapter 35: Meeting the Family

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 35: Meeting the Family

There was utter silence for a few minutes as everyone sized each other up.

Suddenly, a strange sound could be heard from the chair behind Danny. He turned in a panic to see Lindsay had collapsed, with her head down on the table, heaving in deep breaths.

"What happened? Are you hurt? Montana, what's up?" He had an arm around her and was trying to see her face. The three Gray boys moved closer, with Don and Hawkes standing between them and the table, a little threateningly.

Lindsay raised her head at Danny's insistence and he saw with shock that she was laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face. "O my GOD!" she spluttered. "That was like some hokey Western by Mel Brooks. No, I know; it was like that scene in _Maverick_ with Mel Gibson at the big poker game!"

She was whooping now, hardly able to take in a breath at all. Joey started to grin, while Mike and Jason rolled their eyes. "Little sisters," their identical expressions seemed to say.

Danny sat down in the chair beside her, hard. His legs just gave out on him. He had thought she was going to be gunned down right in front of him, and she was laughing?

No, not laughing, she was howling. Weakly she waved a hand to her brothers, inviting them to sit down. "Don can get you a drink," she wheezed. "He owes you one, especially you, Joey."

A little sheepishly, each man grabbed a chair, picking up the ones lying on the floor, and sat down. Don cleared his throat. "So, the lady says you need a drink?" It was a tentative offer of peace.

The oldest brother, Mike, looked at the board listing all the different kinds of coffee. "Yeah, but none of your frappadappachinos. Linds, where's the nearest bar? After a New York welcome like that, I think we need a real drink."

Joey, the youngest, was exploring his ribs a little cautiously. "Mike, it's barely afternoon back home," he complained.

"Yeah, but you're in the big city now, boy," Jason, who was the 'big one', clapped his little brother on the shoulder, knocking the breath out of him.

"I think we need one of them 'businessmen's lunches', complete with martinis."

Danny remembered that Jason had played football through college: a linebacker, he assumed. The three brothers didn't look much like Lindsay; they were all huge, well over 6'4", as she had said, all with short dark brown hair, tanned skin, and sun-wrinkles around their eyes. That's where Danny could see hints of his Lindsay, in the deep brown eyes of both Joey and Jason. Mike had hazel eyes, almost green in the dim coffee shop light.

"Well, I'm not sure about martinis at Joe's, but the beer is plentiful." Danny decided it was time to mend some bridges, and fast. After all, the Grays had shown up in New York from Bozeman, Montana, and hadn't threatened anyone yet; they must have some reason to be here.

"Beer will do, definitely," Jason said.

Lindsay had finally caught her breath, and was staring at her brothers a little hungrily, as if to monitor the changes in them since she had seen them last. Joey and she shared a glance; Danny could tell they were the closest of the siblings. "Is this a long story, or a short one?" She was obviously using family code, because Joey just grimaced. "Give me a minute, would you?" The three brothers moved towards the door, glancing back a little curiously.

She turned to Don and Hawkes. "I know you have no reason to trust them, and that you won't let me go on my own, but if we go to lunch, would you be very hurt if I asked you to sit at another table?"

Hawkes hesitated, looking at Don, who was technically in charge of the operation. Don was looking as intimidating as only a second generation

New York cop can look: his arms crossed, face scowling. He took in a breath to say something, but was interrupted when Lindsay continued quietly, "I haven't seen them for over three years, Don. Can you blame me for not wanting it to be an interrogation?"

Letting his breath out in something approaching a sigh, Don nodded briskly. "I need whatever information they give you, understand? Anything which may be pertinent to the case. You are not out of danger yet."

Lindsay reached up and gave Don another kiss on the cheek. She was getting entirely too comfortable with that, Danny felt. "I promise they will tell you everything you need to know. I just need to…get reacquainted.

Come with us, and I'll buy you lunch." She turned to Danny with her beautiful open smile, the one he thought of as her Montana smile, the one he had started to think he was never going to see again, and said, almost shyly, "Danny, would you like to come have lunch with my brothers?"

It was inevitable, Lindsay supposed, that they would end up at the local cop bar down the street from the station. She knew men well enough to understand the subtle placement of territory; this was the New Yorkers' place, and they had a right to set the playing field. She knew her brothers would have done the same thing in Montana, and thrown in bull-riding or something equally macho as well.

When Danny automatically went towards the booths in the back, where Hawkes and Don had already headed, though, she pulled him to a table nearer the front, well in Don's sight lines. Her brothers were big men; a booth was not going to work. As they got to the table, she made them all stop. "Boys, this is my husband, Daniel Messer. Danny, this is Michael, Jason, and Joe Gray."

The Grays moved to shake hands, but refrained when they saw the bandages on Danny's. Instead, they all made polite muttering sounds at each other, still uneasy. They took their seats as Lindsay directed; she positioned herself between Danny and Joey on one side, letting Mike and Jason share the other. The server sashayed up to the table full of good-looking men and took their order immediately.

Lindsay hugged to herself the joy welling up in her. It didn't matter what they were here for; they had come. They were real. She could hardly keep herself from reaching out to touch them, to make sure they were actually in front of her. She turned to Danny, her eyes wide and a little pleading. "Damn. I forgot my wallet at the station, and I promised to buy Don and Sheldon lunch. Danny, would you mind?"

He rolled his eyes a little at her transparency, and kissed her a little more possessively than he had to. She needn't think she was going to get away with such an obvious ploy. Still, he could use a moment to collect himself; he could still feel his heart pounding in time to the throbbing in his hand. The pain shot Hawkes had given him had long given over. He'd play along. He stood up and said with an easy smile, "I'll give you a little time with your brothers – back in a few minutes."

* * *

_PS: I stole frappadappachinos from Brent Butt, one of the funniest Canadian comics/actors ever. Credit where credit is due! If you get a chance, check out Corner Gas._


	36. Chapter 36: Catching Up

_A/N: Families never really lose their connection, no matter how much they try! Thanks to all reviewers (and those who just keep pushing: you know who you are!) I love to hear your thoughts, all of you, so keep them coming._

_Disclaimer: Characters from th eshow remain the property of CSB and CSI:NY._

* * *

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 36: Catching Up

Danny strolled over to the booth he and Don usually shared and flopped down on the bench seat beside Hawkes. Don was facing the room, keeping surveillance.

"Jesus, they're big," he muttered, drumming his hands on the table, trying to ignore the pain in his right one.

"Yeah, and tough. If I hadn't surprised that one, he'd have had me over. Good thing I went easy on him; I'd hate to have him carrying a grudge. He looks like he'd be good at it." Don said, eyes scanning the room.

Hawkes pulled the hand brace out of his coat pocket and shoved it at Danny. "Put it on."

Danny scowled. "I can't get my gun out with it on."

"Don't wear it and you won't be able to handle a gun for months. Perhaps ever. Put it on. You need to see a surgeon."

"Later, Shel. I promise. Later."

"Then wear this now. There are more guns in this bar than there are in Canada." Hawkes said in a disgusted tone.

"Actually, twenty-one percent of Canadians own guns. That's upwards of 11 million guns." Flack said absentmindedly, still concentrating on scanning the room.

Hawkes just looked at him.

"What? Chelsea in Niagara told me," he said, raising his hands in laughing protest. "I'm not allowed to have weird facts stuck in my head?"

"Especially when those 'facts' came from a hot 20-something who was mac-ing on you," Danny added.

Hawkes rolled his eyes and glared at Danny again. "If she needs help, you can throw yourself over her. Since you're buying, I'll have a draft."

While the New Yorkers bickered in their usual style, the Montana table was a little quieter at first. Lindsay looked over at Danny and sighed; she wasn't keeping secrets. Not really. She just needed to check in with her brothers before telling him anything more.

Joey followed her gaze and looked at his sister's husband. Damn, that sounded weird. Three years older, Joey had spent his life looking out for the baby, even when that baby fiercely resented it. It felt strange to have someone else doing that job.

Lindsay broke the silence, leaning forward. "How's Ben?'

Mike answered, "He's doing better, Linds. The shot was a through and through; it chipped the collarbone, but there should be no permanent damage. He'll be off another couple months."

Jason grinned, "Teach the idiot a lesson; you'd think he'd know better than to run into a dark barn from bright sunlight. He was totally blinded for just long enough for the kid to shoot. Did years of us ambushing him in the basement teach him nothing?"

Lindsay shuddered. "It could have been worse."

"It could always be worse, Linds." Joey's voice was quiet. "What's going on with you? Or are your friends always so jumpy?"

"Yeah, over-react much? Bit worrying considering the firepower they're carrying," Jason grumbled, but his eyes were wary. Like Don, he was constantly scanning the room for signs of danger.

Lindsay looked at them for a minute. The Gray brothers sat as a unit, even if they were spread around the table. The server had brought them each a draft, and they held their glasses the same way, took a drink the same way. It seemed strange to have only three there; for years it had been five: Tim, Mike, Jason, Ben, and Joey Gray, with the baby girl tagging along behind them.

After three years on her own, she wasn't ready to let them get in front of her yet. "How's Tim?' She said it quietly, but they had been waiting for that.

Joey looked away; Jason looked down. It was up to Mike to answer the question which had lain between them for so long. "It was rough, Lindsay. He went into rehab in the joint, so he's sober. I guess the booze killed the guilt for a while. He gave up what information he could, so his sentence was pretty light, and he was a small fish, anyway. Bethany took him back when he got out, after some counseling and shit. He's working in construction; he was always good with his hands."

"He seems…content, in a weird way." Joey chimed in. "Like he's been waiting for something to go wrong, and when it did, it was a relief."

Lindsay took a drink, then said, "Did any of you want to be cops?"

Mike blinked in confusion. "What do you mean? We are cops." Actually Mike was a Crime Scene Investigator in Montana, as well as a decorated lieutenant.

"I know. But did you feel like you had a choice, or did we all just do it because of Dad?" Lindsay couldn't really explain what she meant, and she knew Danny would be back any minute.

Jason took her hand and gave it a squeeze, conscious as he did that she was somehow smaller than he had remembered. "Don't worry about us, Linds. Maybe Tim took a wrong road, with a lot of help from some people, but the rest of us are doing what we were meant to. It's a fucking shitty job a lot of the time, but if we don't shovel up the crap, we'll be buried by it. Luckily, we're all pretty good with a shovel."

"Dad phoned today." Lindsay blurted out.

The three men looked at each other. "You talk to him?" Joey asked, eventually.

"Yeah." The tone of her voice left little doubt that the conversation had been unsatisfying. "Look, Danny's coming back and we'll tell you about it. Anything you need me to know?"

"Actually, we need everyone to know, including your Lieutenant – Taylor, isn't it? Maybe even your captain." Mike's voice had that official tone that Lindsay recognized with a sigh; nearly every family conversation she had ever had with her father and brothers had ended with that official tone. Maybe they really were most comfortable as cops, she thought to herself.

Danny had followed his lunch over, although it was almost closer to dinner time by now; the server was carrying four plates with enormous hamburgers and mountains of fries. After putting them down on the table, she smiled at Lindsay and said, "I'll bring your salad right out. Refills, boys?"

When Danny sat down the conversation turned to more family matters. Lindsay tried to run down for Danny all her nieces and nephews, but the brothers had to keep gently correcting her. There had been three more babies added to the Gray clan, babies Lindsay had known nothing about, including a set of twin girls which Joey proudly showed pictures of. She could feel the frost creeping in around her heart as they talked, and she knew Danny could feel it too. He tried to change the subject once or twice, but she wouldn't let him. This, too, was her penance for betraying the code, the family.

Danny wanted to ask. He needed to know why they had cut her loose. He needed to know why these men, who seemed to care about their little sister, had apparently let her go so easily, cut her off so completely. It was the elephant in the room, he thought, the question everyone wanted to ask and answer, but couldn't talk about. He moved a little closer to Lindsay, silently offering his support.

Finally, everyone finished eating, and Don and Hawkes wandered over, Don still on full alert, even in this place. Mike stood up and motioned Don over for a minute. The two detectives talked quietly for a minute, then seemed to come to an agreement. Lindsay thought they had the same expression on their faces: uncompromising and professional.

Don turned to the table, and said, "Okay, it's back to the precinct. We need to de-brief the Grays and set up a new plan. Their being here in New York changes things. Lindsay, you're with me and Danny. Hawkes, you and Jason go out first; make sure he gets to the precinct. Mike and Joey will follow us – a block behind and on alert. Let's move out."

The operation was quickly and efficiently carried out; Lindsay hardly saw the street at all because Danny had his arm around her, holding her close to his body on his right side, walking between her and the street. He didn't say a word, just gave her a quick kiss as they stepped out the door, but she could feel his heart beating. It was a good thing, as she wasn't sure her own heart hadn't just frozen solid.


	37. Chapter 37:The Looking Glass

Chapter 37: The Other Side of the Looking Glass

They arrived back at the precinct a few minutes after Hawkes and Jason, a few minutes before Mike and Joey, just as Don had planned. There were formalities to go through, introductions to be made, people to contact for meetings. Danny took Lindsay to their office while all that was done; he could see by the bruises under her eyes that she was almost finished, and the day was not nearly over yet.

He said, "Lindsay, why don't you curl up on the couch and try to sleep a few minutes?"

"Are you crazy?" She refused almost angrily.

He started to step back, but suddenly she turned to him and buried her head in his chest, holding onto him so tightly he could hardly breathe. In relief, he wrapped his arms around her and held on, murmuring meaningless reassurances and loving words in her ear. He coaxed her over to the couch, and sat down, pulling her into his lap and holding her until her breathing steadied. He didn't think she was crying; perhaps she had no tears left. But whatever comfort he could offer was hers for the taking, and at that moment, just holding her seemed to be enough.

When Stella came to get them, Danny shook Lindsay gently, kissing her on the top of her head. "Hey," he said quietly, "You ready to go?"

"I'd rather stay here," she admitted under her breath.

"So would I; well, actually, at home in our bed would be better. But as Flack said, Montana, let's finish this. I want our life back." He kissed her again, on the lips this time, and felt the heat that always simmered between them warming up the surface. "I want _our_ life back."

She swung herself off his lap and smiled a little uncertainly at Stella. "How are you doing? Long day? Did Mac go home?"

Stella shook her head. "He slept in the break room. He knew he'd just get called back in. I guess he heard from Captain Johnston again; your brothers are AWOL. Johnston's not too happy."

Lindsay stopped in surprise. Going absent without leave was not the way the Grays usually did things. Respect for authority was drummed into all of them growing up, and all the boys had seemed to inherit that respect without analyzing it. To leave the job without permission was unusual; to leave the state on any kind of investigation without official sanction was unheard of.

Danny put his hand on her back, urging her forward. It didn't take an expert in Gray family history to know that the boys had broken pattern by showing up here. He was as anxious as Lindsay to find out what was going on. Obviously, the story was not finished yet.

Stella took them to a conference room instead of to Mac's office; the group was getting too large. The Grays, Don, and Hawkes were already there, filling in an incident board with dates, pictures, and details. Lindsay sat down when she saw the centre picture of Rod Strangways: his official photo in captain's uniform, then his mug shot, then a photo taken on the street, obviously after he was released. He had that recognizable jail-house pallor, scruffy, dirty brown hair, and a little unhealthy weight gain.

Mac looked at Danny, who nodded in confirmation. "As far as I can tell without seeing him move, that's the guy who was following Montana."

The brothers shared broad grins at the nickname. Lindsay glared at them, but refrained from saying anything. Mike spoke up, taking charge as naturally as Mac usually did.

"This, as I gather you know, is Rod Strangways, former Captain of the Montana State Crime Lab. Just over three years ago, he was convicted of corruption; the complete files have been sent to you. As you all know by now, the chief investigating and arresting officer was Detective Lindsay Gray, now Messer."

Lindsay looked up sharply. Was that _pride _she heard in Mike's voice?

He continued, "Through a solid investigation, Detective Gray apprehended or assisted in the apprehension of fifteen officers of the Montana State Police force who were involved in prostitution rings, drug trafficking, you name it, while using their office and badges to evade the law. It was a spectacular piece of work, and naturally, it left the police force in complete disarray. The captain of the Crime Lab went down. So did several key players including our oldest brother. Basically, the leadership was in a mess. It took forever to get things under control: hundreds of current investigations were compromised; months – no – years of work had to be re-done by officers and technicians who were in the clear." Mike stopped a minute, shaking his head at the memory.

Jason spoke up, "In other words, it was a complete shit pile, and Dad and Mike were under it digging out."

Don grinned a little at the description. Thanks to Mac, he'd spent some time under a very similar pile of fecal matter. Sometimes, he could still smell it sticking to him.

Mike nodded, "After most of the immediate mess was cleared up, Dad was called in to supervise the lab. The investigation had completely cleared him, even though both his son and his best friend, Ralph Stroschein, were involved and eventually convicted. Management felt it would give people some confidence if Evan Gray was put in charge – show that everyone trusted the process and knew the right people had been stopped."

Hawkes interrupted this time. "I guess the right of management to mis-manage is an inalienable one, eh?"

Mike nodded again, acknowledging of Hawkes' understanding. "Exactly. It was a complete and utter balls-up. First of all, Dad is a great cop, don't get me wrong, but he has no idea about forensics or how to run a lab. Second, lots of people didn't trust him, and having management tell them to was hardly the vote of confidence he needed."

"Third," Joey jumped in, "Dad can be a stiff-necked prick when he likes. The lab was hurting; they needed some time. He did worse than not give it to them; he blamed them for not seeing the problem earlier."

"It took about six months for management to recognize and fix the error." Mike carried on. "Dad was moved to another department, and I was promoted to head the Montana Crime Lab."

Lindsay smiled widely at that. "I knew you could do it."

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Gray. That doesn't explain what you are doing here, though, and without your captain's permission, I might add." Mac's voice was calm, as always, but there was no mistaking the command underneath it.

"Sir, once I had access to the Crime Lab files and the appropriate security clearance, I went digging for information on Lindsay's case. Some of what I am telling you now, we didn't know until a few months ago."

Jason jumped in, "Mike called us in when he started to find information about threats to Lindsay. I contacted Anna Monroe; that was the first we knew about Lindsay changing her name, or moving to New York."

Joey added, "We knew you'd left the state, Lindsay; Dad was told that much. But none of us knew even what state you were in until the wedding invitation came."

Danny looked away from Lindsay for the first time since Mike had started talking, "Yeah. What about that? How come none of you contacted her then?"

Mike grinned at Lindsay, "If you want people to answer, honey, you should put your return address on the envelope."

Lindsay dropped her face into her hands, while everyone in the room chuckled, breaking the tension a little.

"Besides, the invite went to Dad, and it was weeks before he told any of us about it. In fact if Jody hadn't found it in a pile of unpaid bills, we still wouldn't know about it." Jason sighed; his wife had taken to going over to Evan Gray's house about once a week and checking to make sure things were kept up. With no kids left at home, Evan was losing his grip a little on the day-to-day stuff.

"So we were left with a little mystery of our own. Once we knew what name Lindsay was going under, it was easier to find out something about where she was. But we were still being discouraged from contacting her. Mac," Mike turned to the New York detective, "What did you think of Captain Johnston?"

"He was … unhelpful," Mac said cautiously.

"Yeah, that's what we found too. No matter what we thought we were looking for, he would re-direct us. It was clear from the files that I was reading that he had all this information. But he refused to share it with us."

"Even Dad couldn't get a hold of it, Lindsay. The files weren't sent over until Mike had been in the office for nearly a month. They had been 'lost'." Joey made 'rabbit ears' with his fingers around the word lost, indicating how dubious he found that.

Mike turned to his sister, "Lindsay, we never really knew what had happened to you. We were told not to contact you during the trial at all; we didn't even know for sure where you were. We were just told that you were safe, and that trying to find you might put you in danger. Afterwards, no one would tell us any more."

"Johnston told me you had all refused to see me." Lindsay's voice was so quiet she could hardly be heard.

Joey looked at her with a confused mixture of love and hurt, reaching across the table for her hand. "How could you believe that, Linds?"

"How could I not? I took down Uncle Ralph, Joey. It's my fault Tim went to prison. Bethany wouldn't have been hurt if I'd just stayed out of it. I didn't really blame any of you." Lindsay kept telling herself she would not cry.

"It's not your fault, Lindsay." The voice was Don's; he refused to look at Mac or Danny, keeping his eyes on Lindsay. "If they were dirty, it was their responsibility, not yours. Their actions. Their choices."


	38. Chapter 38: Loaded for Bear

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 38: Loaded for Bear

After a moment's silence, Mike cleared his throat and said, "Lindsay, I'm so sorry. We should have tried harder. We should have forced them to tell us. But we assumed that Dad…"

"Maybe he was trying to keep her safe, too," Danny interrupted. "Maybe he did what he thought was best."

Lindsay smiled at him a little shakily and blinked back tears. Trust Danny, she thought, to try and find the best in anyone. For a tough New York detective, he sure had a soft centre.

Joey snorted, "Yeah, well, miracles could happen, I guess. Anyway, when our brother Ben was shot in a takedown last month, Lindsay saw it in a news report. She phoned my house and left a message. It took some digging, but we found out how to contact her. We didn't, though, because we were still getting warnings about her safety."

Lindsay's hand crept into Danny's, silently asking his forgiveness for not talking to him about the calls she had tried to make to Montana. It had just been too much to deal with. He squeezed her hand back, and smiled. As long as she was talking to him now, he was prepared to forgive anything.

"So," Mac's quiet voice broke in again, "Why are you all here?"

"Strangways. One of Jason's prison contacts heard he was out and on his way to New York. We knew he's been carrying a grudge against Lindsay, and now that we knew where she was, it seemed obvious he was after her. We tried to get Johnston to do something, but all he was willing to do was contact New York to warn you. When we found out that no additional information was being sent, we decided that wasn't good enough." Jason's mouth was firmly set; no one was under any illusion about his ability to cheerfully take down anyone in his way.

"We knew Strangways was obsessed with getting the person who took him down. So we decided to come and find out what the plan was. We didn't know whether he's got here or not yet. We've been two steps behind the whole way. Whatever you do now, we're in on it. Use us," Joey was equally determined.

Mac and Don glanced at each other. More trained men they could count on were always useful, but there was the maverick issue: could they trust these guys to do what they were told and not go off half-cocked? Between Danny and the Gray brothers, the potential for disaster was huge. Mac gave a clipped nod, and Don a half shrug. "Let's talk," said the detective, taking out his notebook. "What can you tell me about Strangways?"

As the discussion got under way, Lindsay felt her cell phone vibrate against her hip. Flipping it open to answer it, she automatically checked the call display, and frowned when she didn't recognize the number. She held up her hand as she answered, and the voices in the room stilled. Don pulled out his phone in readiness.

"Detective Lindsay Messer."

"Detective," the voice purred in her ear, and she nodded sharply to Don, who already had the lab on the phone.

"Who is this?" Her voice was calm and steady.

"Oh, come now, Lindsay. Surely you and all your big city buddies have figured it out by now? After all, you must have been dining off your triumph for years by now. How many country girls can claim they took down nearly an entire police department single-handedly? That must have impressed the big boys in New York no end. I'm a little surprised to find you still in the lab, though. I'd have though IAB was more your style. Disloyalty looks so good on you."

"Who are you?" Lindsay was determined to give him no satisfaction. Although she recognized the voice, she wanted his name on the record.

"Shouldn't that be, 'Who are you, Captain?' Come on, Lindsay, after all we shared, don't tell me you don't know me. After months of working together? Weeks of staring at each other across the courtroom? The least you could do after betraying me is to acknowledge that you know me now." The voice was not so smooth now; a little raw edge had crept in.

Don was motioning her to keep talking: they needed a few more minutes to triangulate the call and figure out where the caller was. He left the room at a run to co-ordinate the search, while Mac took over as liaison on the radio.

"How did you get this number?" Lindsay was damned if she would use his name. She pushed up the volume on her phone so that his voice could just be heard in the room.

"I am an investigator, Lindsay, my dear. I did teach you everything you know. This was not a very difficult job. How was your lunch? I like the burgers at Joe's, and of course the ambience is very nice for a cop like me."

"A cop like you? What kind of cop would that be? A drug-dealing pimp?"

She took his hiss of anger as a minor victory. "What do you want?"

"You. Just you. No other Grays. Yes, I saw the posse come riding to the rescue. Notice Daddy didn't come. No other cops, including that jumped-up little gangster spawn you married. You can't hide in the precinct forever. Eventually you are going to come out, and I'll be waiting."

"Then what? Are you going to kill me? It's not like that will do you any good. Every cop in the city is looking for you already. I'll be dead, but you'll be back in jail, if they don't kill you first. This is New York, _Captain_," Lindsay infused as much scorn as she possibly could into the word. "The cops here don't have to worry about whose brother you are, or who your daddy was. Shooting to kill is second nature. You're out of your league."

"I'm out of my league? ME? I was born to be in this league. I was the one who ran the precinct. I was the one who trained you, Gray. Who the HELL are you to tell me what league I'm in?"

Strangways' voice was rising as Lindsay deliberately goaded him. She knew from the muttered conversation Mac was having and the frantic activity happening around her that cops were flooding the streets looking for him. If she could just keep him focused on her and unaware of everything else, this could all be over very quickly.

"Sorry, _sir_, but it seems to me that I spent the past three years training under a real CSI with the best team in the top lab in the country, while you spent the same time in jail. And you know what? That was the best day's work I ever did. Anything I ever do in my life will never feel quite the same as seeing you go away." Her taunts were getting to him, she could tell by his laboured breathing.

She stared at Danny as she spoke. He was watching her with a kind of frustrated pride she recognized; it was hard for her knight in shining armour to stand back and let her take the lead on anything. She loved that it was hard for him. She loved that he did it anyway. She smiled brightly as she prepared to drive the knife deeper into her former mentor.

"You know, Rod, you did okay for a while. You could have probably managed to keep the prostitution under wraps. But you should have known better than to bring drugs into the mix. Kids can't keep quiet when they're hopped up, no matter how much you scare them. They rolled on you like logs in the water. I had more evidence than I could process once they started talking. It was the easiest collar I ever made. You made it even easier by being so cocky. Who knew how little … muscle … you had to back up your boasts?"

This time, everyone in the room heard the howl. "You bitch! You bloody little bitch! You took it all. You took everything from me. I will get you if it is the last thing I ever do…" The voice petered out, and Lindsay could hear Don's voice, "Hands up! New York Police! Put up your hands, Strangways. Get them behind your head!"

Then it was Don's voice on the phone, "Nice work, Detective. He was only a block away, moving towards the precinct. All secure." A moment's pause, and Don said, "What the hell did you say to him, Linds? He's raving here."

"I guess the truth can be hard to hear. Thanks, Don. Thanks for everything."

"See you in a while. We're on our way to Central Booking, aren't we, Strangways?"


	39. Chapter 39: Wrapping it Up

Chapter 39: Wrapping It Up

Danny was bouncing with impatience, trying not to make it too obvious. Lindsay's brothers, Strangways, interrogations, paperwork: all had to be dealt with. But his Montana was standing in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the incident board, ignoring all the bustle going on around her.

He wanted to take her home. He wanted to make her dinner. He wanted, fiercely, to take her to bed and make everything just disappear for as long as he could, until they fell into a world of bliss, cocooned in each other for an eternity.

He didn't want to talk to anyone else, ever again.

"Hey Danny," Flack came up behind him, and Danny sighed. So much for what he wanted. He turned and looked at his friend, who was looking more than a little rough. Danny felt guilty; everyone had been put through the wringer on this one, not just him, not even just Montana. He was starting to get an inkling of the reason she took so much blame on herself; it came with the territory of caring for other people.

"What's up?" He tried to smile, although it was a feeble effort.

"You're coming with me." Flack glanced around and Hawkes appeared over his other shoulder. "With us." The two men strong-armed Danny down the hall.

Danny pushed against them, struggling to get away. "What the fuck are you doing? Let go of me. Lindsay? Lindsay!"

"Shut up; do you want to worry her even more than you have today, you asshole?" Flack hissed.

Danny shut up, for a moment. Then the questions began at rapid-fire pace, and at the top of Messer's not-inconsiderable lungs. "Where's Lindsay? Why do I have to go with you? Where are you taking me? Come on guys – it's been a long day!"

They shoved him, ungently, into the elevator, and Hawkes pushed the parking garage button. Then they turned on him.

"First," Flack said, angrily, "SHADDUP!"

Danny shut up.

"Lindsay is going to the hotel with her brothers. They want to phone Evan Gray and report what happened. Jason said their dad will chew their asses for leaving without permission, and they don't need you around for that."

"Jason said that?" Danny was a little surprised; his new brothers-in-law didn't look like they'd care one way or another what he thought of them.

"No," Hawkes sighed, "Lindsay said that."

"Oh," Danny opened his mouth to ask another question, then shut it quickly when Don made a threatening gesture.

"Second," Hawkes continued, "You made me a promise."

Danny groaned, "Tomorrow, Hawkes. You said tomorrow." He knew he was whining, but he didn't care. He did not want to sit in a hospital for hours until someone could look at his hand. He just wanted to go home.

Hawkes said quietly, "Danny, it is tomorrow. It's after midnight."

"And third," Don finished, "Just shut the fuck up. It's been a long day for everyone, and this stunt hasn't helped any." He gestured roughly to Danny's hand which was now swollen and oozing blood again.

The hand was throbbing in time to the headache Danny had been fighting, it seemed, for hours. Danny leaned against the elevator wall, closing his eyes. All the fight was draining out of him.

"Guys," his voice was nearly too quiet to hear. "Thanks for everything."

Don looked at the flashing numbers of the floor indicator and cleared his throat. "Forget about it," he replied, slurring the words into "fugedabowdid" like an Italian gangster in a bad Hollywood rip-off.

Danny chuckled wearily. By the time the elevator stopped, he could barely move his legs. Don and Hawkes flanked him to make sure he didn't just crumble to the ground, and deposited him in the car.

The car stopped at an office building in Manhattan, not a hospital. Danny looked up at the high-rise and shook his head. "Hawkes, I don't think I can afford to even go in the lobby of this building. I'm pretty sure neither my HMO nor the department's insurance company is going to pick this up."

Hawkes steered him into the building regardless of his complaints. "Do you want to stay an investigator, Messer?" At Danny's nod, he continued, "Well, if you don't get that hand looked at by one of the best, your career could be over. I called in a major favour for you. Let's go."

It felt like hours later before the three men were back on the street in front of the building, although Danny's watch said it was two in the morning. In spite of the late hour, Hawkes' old school friend had taken one look at the mess Danny had made of his hand and his eyes had lit up with what could only be described as unholy glee. Dr. Kraicken had a whole room of toys, many of which, as far as Danny was concerned, looked like medieval torture tools, and he had used many of them on Detective Messer. His hand was more or less its normal shape again under the fiberglass cast Kraiken had put on, but Danny thought the next time he felt like ramming his hand into something, he'd just run over his own head with a car. It would be easier all around.

"Where now, Flack?" Even Hawkes looked a little strung out over the medical procedure they had witnessed; no pain relief could be given, Kraiken had explained cheerfully, until the bones had been moved back into their proper places; otherwise even more nerve damage could be done. Watching Danny try not to scream had been wrenching.

"I'll drive you home, Hawkes; you didn't drive in today, did you?" Flack was pretty shaken up too; it was strange how things done by a professional, in a clean, sterile office, could seem so much worse than some of the horrific things he saw every day on the street. "Then I'm taking Sleeping Beauty here home, and going home myself." He shot a look at Danny blissed out in the back seat; the doctor had finally shot him up but good once he had finished.

"Is Lindsay going to be at home? Danny can't be left alone yet, for at least 24 hours." Hawkes turned around and checked on Danny as well; he was well into "impaired" by the morphine dose he'd been given.

"Damn, I don't know. Could you phone her and find out?" Don wanted to go home, more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. Every day a case could turn bad and make him wonder why he did the job, but this one had made him wonder it every few minutes. He needed food and a cuddle with Stella: a little hint of normal in a very bad world.

While Hawkes dialed Lindsay's phone number, Don evaluated that thought: food? Cuddles? He was starting to sound like his parents, who were really the most married people he had ever known. Like most kids, Don had spent exactly no time trying to work out his parents' relationship, but now he thought back to certain rules in his family growing up, and tried to figure them out.

Rule One: "let your father get in the door before you start bugging him." Flack Sr. had spent years on the job, coming and going at odd times on every imaginable shift, but the rule was an absolute. No one talked to Dad until he had had a shower, changed his clothes, and had 15 minutes alone. Even Dora had made him a snack and cup of coffee, then got out of the way.

Rule Two: "don't expect your father to work out problems with your siblings." Flack Sr.'s rule about family disputes was pretty simple: everyone lost. The kids learned to work things out themselves or have everything taken away.

Rule Three: "family above all else." Nothing came between one Flack and another one. The first fight Don remembered getting into was when he was three years old and he bit a boy who made his sister Maria cry; at 14, she was already a bombshell. Neither parent had ever said a word to him about it.

Vaguely, Don heard Hawkes say, "Okay, Lindsay. I'll wait for you there. No, don't worry; I'll just get a cab once you get home. Flack? Nah, he needs to get home to Stella, I think. Yeah, see you whenever." Hawkes snapped his phone shut and looked over at Flack, who was lost in his own thoughts. "Flack. Hey, Flack? Lindsay says take us to her place. She'll meet me there and take over with Danny. That way you can go home."

Don heard those words loud and clear.


	40. Chapter 40: The Touching Moment

_A/N: As always, thanks to my reviewers and my readers. This story is nearing the end._

_Disclaimer: I'm nearly ready to put them away in the CBS cupboard._

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**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 40: The Touching Moment

After dropping Hawkes and Danny at the Messers' apartment, Don turned towards home. He felt vaguely guilty about dumping Hawkes with babysitting duty, but Hawkes had just laughed at him.

"Don, go home. Danny has cable, a flat screen TV, and a fridge full of food that I didn't have to prepare or pay for. I'll be fine until Lindsay gets back; they may have to kick me out!" Hawkes was revving too high to go home yet; besides, he figured he was the most capable of monitoring Danny's condition, as well as of explaining it to Lindsay when she got back.

Don helped Danny into the apartment and then into bed; he was so out of it Hawkes couldn't have managed on his own. "Call if you need anything, 'kay?" He offered half-heartedly. It wasn't that he didn't care about Danny and Lindsay; he just needed to be home.

Hawkes nodded, but had no intention of taking him up on it. Instead, he checked once on Danny, who was tossing and muttering, but asleep. Then he called Mac to update him, raided the cupboards and fridge and turned on a re-broadcast hockey game. His day was drawing to a better close than he could have predicted earlier.

As Don drove automatically through the New York streets, one scene that he had had to push to the back of his mind all day filled his head. He could still feel the fluttering kick of his baby against his hand, could still smell Stella's warm scent of something rich and exotic mingled with vanilla, could see the love in her eyes as she held his hand in the right place.

He stopped the car in front of the building he had moved into with Stella. Searching for this place for her had been a labour of love, he now realized, though at the time it had simply seemed a friendly gesture, a way to help fix what had gone wrong for her with her abusive boyfriend, Frankie. He'd wanted to find a haven for her; one in which she would feel safe and surrounded with love. He was still coming to terms with the idea that she would feel safe anywhere he was, just as wherever she was instantly became home for him.

He came to with a start; he had been sitting in the car for five minutes, not moving. He could see the lights of his apartment, Stella's figure moving in front of the filmy curtains to look out into the street for him. She would wonder what was wrong with him, sitting there when he could be inside. But he was having a little trouble breathing. The day was catching up with him; he had watched two of his best friends put through the wringer today. He knew, of course he knew, what it was like to worry about a friend, about a colleague. Aside from his own brush with death, he had sat outside more than one hospital room waiting for a doctor to pronounce life or death or describe the new restrictions a formerly healthy body was going to have to adjust to.

But he had seen the blank terror in Danny's eyes every time he had looked at Lindsay all day. That was new. That was something he had not faced: the idea that the person who completed him, who had changed everything in his life by the mere fact of her existence, could be taken from him in an instant. How could he live with that, he wondered in bemusement. Stella was a cop as well as an investigator; the chances of her getting through the rest of her career without being hurt were slim. And now it wasn't just them anymore. They had delivered another hostage to fate; the baby they had created was more vulnerable than both of them put together.

When Stella knocked on the window of the car, Don nearly had a heart attack. She was wearing one of his sweatshirts, nearly down to her knees, and a loose pair of sweats underneath it, her arms wrapped around herself trying to keep warm. "Are you all right? Did something happen? Why are you sitting in the car?"

Without thinking, he opened the door of the car, reached out and pulled her onto his lap, holding her close. She giggled, "What are you doing, you maniac?" Then she caught her breath as he took her mouth with his in a searing kiss. She was suddenly, shockingly warm, and heating up fast. His hand slid beneath the sweatshirt to capture one ripe naked breast, shuddering and deepening the kiss as he realized she was only wearing the sweats.

"Don. Oh God," she moaned as he gently rubbed her sensitive nipple and sucked on her neck. She could feel him getting hard underneath her; his usual control had completely come apart. "Don! Not here. Oh, God, not there either," his hand was exploring under the sweat pants now, and she felt him quiver at how wet she was. "Upstairs, Flack." She slipped off his lap, grabbing the car keys as she slid out of the car, and taking his hand in hers, pulled him into the building. He followed her without speaking, almost as if he was sleepwalking.

Stella tried to smile naturally at the doorman as he opened the secured door for them, but there was no way he hadn't taken in at least some of that show outside. "Could you see the car gets put away, John?" Her voice was annoyingly husky. To give John credit, he didn't crack a smile until after the Flacks were in the elevator.

"Must have been some day," he grinned as he took the keys Stella had tossed him and called one of the boys to move the car to its designated parking space.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, Don surrounded Stella. His arms went around her, his mouth took hers, and she couldn't breathe even when he ended the kiss. The doors opened and they both had to check twice to make sure they were on the right floor. Stella had left their door unlocked when she ran downstairs to make sure Don was all right. He had been sitting in the car for so long she had become afraid that somehow, somewhere, he had been injured without her knowing it.

She pushed the door open and threw herself into Don's waiting arms again. He lifted her, kicked the door shut, and carried her to the bedroom, putting her gently down on the bed. His mouth lingered on hers even as he pulled away to strip off the suit which had become as much a uniform as the blues he had happily given up when he passed his detective exam. He was a different person when it hit the floor; tonight he was a man stupid in love.

He sat down on the bed beside her and looked at her, face flushed with his kisses, hair a little wild, eyes a little too bright, lips red and full. He could still hardly believe that she was here, that she was his. "I love you, Stel. I love you so much."

Stella sat up and cupped his face in her hands. "I know. I know, Don. I love you too. I love you. It's all right. Everything is all right." She murmured the same words over and over as he pulled off the sweats and stared at her in the warm soft light of the streetlights through the window, then began to explore her body with mouth and hands until the only word she could say was his name on a breathless moan.

When he slipped inside her, she convulsed around him, clenching like a hot fist, then bucking against him as she fell endlessly into the warm darkness of satisfaction. He held out as long as he could before leaping off the cliff after her, groaning out his pleasure into her mouth.

It could have been a minute; it could have been several before he realized he was still lying on top of her. Swiftly he raised himself up on his elbows, trying to get his weight off her and the baby. "Geez, Stella. I'm sorry."

She blinked, her blurred eyes slowly coming back into focus. "Sorry? What on earth for?"

He rolled off her, dropping a kiss on her belly. "Did I hurt you? Is the baby okay?"

She laughed at his worried face, and fondly kissed him on the nose. "You know, Flack, babies are pretty well protected. I don't think you can hurt him."

"Are you sure? I don't want to damage her." Don rubbed his hand over Stella's stomach again, this time concentrating on the baby growing inside her.

"The happier you make his mama, the happier he is. And let me tell you something, Don Flack Jr.," her smile grew wicked, "Right now, mama is _very_ happy." She kissed him on the mouth, her tongue slipping into his teasingly.

Don rolled over, pulling her on top of him, and deepened the kiss a little more, trying to pour all his love and commitment into that one touch of mouth to mouth.

When they finally broke apart, she rested her head on his chest and sighed. "Are you okay?" She asked it a little hesitantly.

Don sighed. "It was a bad day."

"Good ending?" Stella asked, a little worried that something else had happened between her leaving the precinct hours after her shift should have been over and Don coming home in this strained, intense state.

Don told her about Danny, going a little white as he described the doctor's therapy session. "He took it for so long, Stel, then he screamed, once. I don't think I've ever heard anything like that before. If that damned doctor had been deliberately torturing him, it would have been easier to take."

Stella rubbed her head against Don's chin, remembering with a shudder the long days of physical therapy he had gone through after he was injured in the bomb blast. "Danny's strong, Don. He'll get through this."

"Will _they_ get through this?" Stella had told Don – could it be only two days ago? – about what had been happening in their friends' lives before all this had happened. Don hadn't even had a chance to talk to Danny about the whole baby issue. Danny had always seemed genuinely happy for the Flacks. Of course, so had Lindsay. It had taken a conversation with his mother and sisters for Don to even realize that the Messers had been trying for a baby since before Stella and he were married. And here they were, married four months and already six months expecting. Life really wasn't fair, was it?

Stella snuggled against him, and smiled confidently. "They'll make it. I know they will."


	41. Chapter 41: Licking their Wounds

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 41: Licking Their Wounds

Lindsay unlocked the door of her apartment and called out softly, "Shel? Are you okay?" She walked into the living room and saw Sheldon sleeping on the couch, the television still on, though muted. She turned off the game and debated whether to just leave Sheldon sleeping, but as soon as she moved past him, he woke up. Like many shift workers, he woke completely, instantly aware of his surroundings.

"Hey, Linds."

"Hey, Shel," she smiled back. "Can I get you something?"

"Naw, I ate. You don't have any chicken parmigiano left, by the way."

She laughed softly, "I'll have to tell Danny you liked it. That's one of his specialties."

"How did your call go?" Shel sat up and grabbed Lindsay's hand, pulling her down on the couch beside him.

She closed her eyes for a moment and curled her feet under her. "It was better than I thought it would be, I guess. He listened to Mike, and talked to me. One day he may accept that the original collar was a good one."

"And your brothers? You good there too?" Shel asked carefully.

"Yeah, we're good, Shel. I don't know whether it was done to protect me or to protect the office, but I think they really were in the dark about where I was. Anna was so angry with my dad; maybe she decided to punish him? Or Captain Johnston decided to bury me. Whatever: they came, Shel. When they knew I was in trouble, they came." Lindsay's voice was bright with joy, although her eyes were exhausted.

"Are they sticking around?"

"No, they fly out tomorrow morning; well, I guess this morning. All of them are AWOL; they need to get back. It's okay. As soon as we can, Danny and I are going to go out there. I have to deal with this; I know that now. Burying something only solves the problem until it starts to smell. Who should know that better than a CSI?"

Sheldon laughed. "Danny Messer in cattle country? Take pictures!" He stood up and stretched, then leaned over and kissed Lindsay on the cheek. "I'm off for home."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay and sleep here? I can find you blankets and stuff."

"Nope. I'm fine. Before I go though..." Sheldon ran through the procedure Danny had gone through, leaving Lindsay white and shaking just at the description. "Because the break Danny had last year didn't heal perfectly cleanly, Dr. Kraicken had to break one of the bones in Danny's hand to relieve the pressure. It had to be done without anaesthetic, so Danny was in a bit of a state. Kraicken doped him with a solid shot of morphine; he should stay out for a while. I've got a prescription here. Be careful, Lindsay; these are highly addictive. I've given Danny three days worth, no more. After that, we'll get him on T-3s, then down again to a still lower dose."

Lindsay took all the directions to heart; the last thing she wanted was Danny addicted to painkillers. She couldn't believe even Danny's formidable temper had done him so much damage.

"Shel, thank you so much for all your help. I don't know what I would have done without you." Lindsay hugged him tightly, and closed the door behind him after saying goodbye. Finally, finally she was home; finally, she was safe. Finally, her long ordeal was over, and she could move on with her life, with Danny in New York. She wrapped her arms around herself in quick delight; no matter how bad the past twenty-four hours had been, the sunrise through her windows signified a brand new beginning.

In the bedroom, Danny stirred again. The morphine was keeping him under, but trapped in a vibrant world where sound and smell had colour and texture. When he opened his eyes, he saw Lindsay, her beautiful open smile, her deep brown eyes. Then he heard a gunshot, and her face disappeared in a cloud of blood. He could feel it on his face, smell its acrid bitterness, taste it like metal on his tongue. It pierced his skin like needles of ice. He moaned and rolled over.

Again he opened his eyes, and saw Lindsay. She was talking to him, laughing at something he had said, although he couldn't hear her. Suddenly, there was a knife deep in her belly, and rivers of blood soaking his feet, rising to his knees. He stumbled and fell, trying to get to her, but the blood covered his face, filled his mouth, choked him with her death.

He sat up, gasping for breath in the dark room. He looked at his hand in the fiberglass cast; he could see the bones glowing under the fiberglass, see the blood pumping through the veins, trying to get around the breaks in the bones. He looked down at his chest and could see his heart pumping, sucking blue blood in, shoving red blood out.

He dropped to the bed again, closing his eyes, only to open them again in terror as Lindsay stumbled towards him, her throat cut, blood pouring over her body, hands desperately reaching out to him for help.

For hours, it seemed, Danny re-lived crime scenes he had worked. Each time, when he went to examine the body, the face became Lindsay's. Each time, her dead eyes would stare at him accusingly, asking him why he couldn't stop this. How could he let her die?

From the kitchen, Lindsay could hear Danny in the bedroom. It sounded like he was waking up, so she grabbed a cup of the coffee she had just made and went in to talk to him. When she came through the door, he was sitting up, sweat pouring off him, gasping as if he had run a marathon.

"Danny? Danny, what's wrong?" She put the cup down on the bedside table and sat down on the bed beside him, reaching out to grab his shoulders.

His hands came up and cupped her face. "I'm sorry, Lindsay. I'm so sorry. Don't be dead. Please don't be dead." Tears gathered in his eyes, and he blinked to control them.

"Danny, I'm here. I'm fine. It's all over, Danny. Everything is all right now." She tried to keep her voice as soothing as possible, but she could see that, although he was looking right at her, his eyes were completely unfocused.

"Lindsay. Lindsay. Where are you? I can't find you. Where are you? Lindsay?" His voice rose until he was yelling.

She grabbed his chin and tried to force him to look at her. "I'm here. Danny, wake up. Baby, I'm right here."

Danny couldn't see anything but a bright light coming towards him. He raised his hand to keep it from crashing into his face, narrowly missing Lindsay with his cast. He thrashed around, trying to avoid the light, but he kept up his heartbreaking call for Lindsay. He was searching for her, but nameless, formless things kept getting in his way. He tried to fight them off, but still they came.

Lindsay kept talking to him, trying to break through whatever nightmares he was having, but nothing she did made any difference. When she spoke to him, he would call back as if she was so far away he could hardly hear her. When she touched him, tried to soothe him, he would push her hand away in loathing.

She ran to the living room and phoned Shel, hoping Danny didn't damage anything while she was out of the room. "Please answer; please answer," she prayed as his phone rang three times before Shel finally picked up.

"Hawkes." His voice was brisk, as if he hadn't yet gone to sleep.

"Shel, he's hallucinating. I don't know what to do." Lindsay's voice was shaking.

"Lindsay? He's what? Does he have a fever?" Shel wracked his brains for anything that Danny could be reacting to.

"Yes. No. He's sweating, and hot, but I don't think he has a fever. I wouldn't be able to take it anyway; he won't let me get close to him. Every time I try, he pushes me away." Lindsay swallowed. She had never seen Danny like this.

"Lindsay, he may be having a reaction to the morphine. Does he look like he's tripping? You know, like someone on PCP?"

"Yes. Yes, that's exactly what he looks like." Lindsay was terrified now. They had all seen junkies on dust or other hallucinogens; there was no reasoning with them.

"Lindsay, I'm calling a bus. Stay away from him. Please, Lindsay. He could hurt you, and not even know it. They'll be there in 5 minutes."

Shel was dialing his cell as he talked. "I need a bus at the following address. We have an officer hallucinating in reaction to morphine; he is violent and possibly dangerous. Repeat, he could be dangerous. Tell me where to meet the team." He gave the Messers' address, wishing now he had stayed to help Lindsay. He went back to the other phone. "Lindsay. Lindsay? The EMT is on its way. Let them in and I'll meet you at the hospital. Do not go back into the bedroom. Let them handle him."

Lindsay promised, but when she went back to the bedroom door, she could hear him calling her, a lost, broken sound. She stepped into the room to tell him she was there and narrowly avoided the cup of hot coffee which Danny's searching hand had found and flung at the things which were tormenting him. He screamed in frustration and tried to get out of the bed, but his legs were tangled in the sheets and he hit the floor, landing on his broken hand. The shock and pain caused him to pass out.

When the EMTs arrived at the door a few minutes later, Danny was still on the floor, unconscious, and Lindsay was sitting beside him with his head in her lap, crooning and talking to him, telling him everything was going to be fine.

They put him on the stretcher in restraints, but let her travel in the ambulance with him. He muttered and tossed his head, but was not able to move. She sat beside him, her hand wrapped around his uninjured one, tears running down her face, but her voice steady and unrelenting as she told him she was there, right beside him, and she wasn't going away.


	42. Chapter 42:Turning, Turning

_A/N: I can't thank all my reviewers enough for their comments, their responses, and their involvement with this story. Brilliantly-confused wins the award for putting K&K over 200 reviews, but I appreciated every person who left even one comment or thought in the last month. _

_Disclaimer: I'm nearly ready to put them all away again. CBS and CSI:NY deserve the credit for creating them.

* * *

_

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 42: Turning, Turning

Danny pushed through the tall plants which rustled and murmured above him. He couldn't see anything but the stalks in front of him, could feel only the brush of leaves against his face. He was looking for her still, again, but she was nowhere to be found. His Lindsay. His Montana. Gone.

He called her name, and stopped when he heard an answer, but it was so far away, and he was so tired. He called to her again, and this time the answer was a little closer. The plants were close, too close, and the wind through them was too loud. He turned and tried to see through the stalks, but he couldn't see anything, and now he was confused about where he was, where she was.

"Lindsay? Where are you?" His voice cracked with weariness.

"I'm here, Danny. I'm right here. Sleep now. I'll be here when you wake up." Her voice was soft and warm and full of love. He could feel her arms around him, and the plants – could they be wheat stalks? – disappeared.

His eyes stayed closed, but he could hear voices: Lindsay's, a deep voice he didn't recognize and another woman. Stella? Why was she here? He could hear machinery beeping and hissing around him and smell antiseptic which burned the back of his throat. Damn. He was in a hospital. Why was he in a damned hospital?

Exhausted, he opened his eyes and looked straight into Lindsay's loving gaze. "Hey. You scared the bloody daylights out of me, you know." She kissed him gently on the forehead.

"What happened?" His voice was hoarse; his throat hurt as if he had been yelling.

"Detective Messer? You appear to have a severe atypical reaction to morphine and its derivatives. You ended up having a near psychotic episode. We've given you something to counteract the effects, and everything is probably fine now, although you'll be sore and tired for a while. If you hear or see anything which seems peculiar, you should come straight in and see someone immediately. You'll need to wear an emergency alert bracelet for future reference."

The deep authoritative voice was the one he hadn't recognized, and when the man swum into Danny's blurred view, he was clearly a doctor. Without his glasses, Danny found, it was hard to understand what people said to him. He blinked in confusion and squeezed Lindsay's hand, checking that she was really there.

"Mrs. Messer, if you will come with me a minute, we have some forms for you to fill out."

Lindsay's face came back into view, and she helped him to put his glasses on, so he didn't feel so helpless. "I'll be right back. Stella's here." She kissed him on the cheek and left the room.

"Hey, Danny." Stella sat beside him, and he tried to focus on her face. Even with his glasses on, he was having trouble seeing straight.

"What the hell happened?" Pieces of the day before, if it was the day before, were coming back to him but nothing connected him to being here in a hospital bed.

Stella sighed. "Hawkes and Don took you to see a specialist about your hand. Do you remember that?"

Danny shook his head, frustrated.

"Okay, back up. You punched a wall and broke your hand. Do you remember that?" Stella tried to keep her voice gentle; after all, Danny had broken his fist on a wall instead of on Don's face. She should feel more grateful to him.

Danny frowned. "Yes?" He blinked rapidly for a minute, then struggled to get up. "Strangways? Lindsay's brothers?"

"Whoa. Everything is okay." Stella put her hand on Danny's shoulder to keep him still. "Strangways was arraigned this morning on charges of stalking and uttering threats. The Grays left for Montana, but Lindsay says you two are going out in the summer to meet them all again." She chuckled at the look of dismay which flickered over Danny's face at that news.

"And why am I here?"

Lindsay came back into the room in time to hear the question, and stepped up beside Stella to answer. "You reacted to the morphine shot Dr. Kraiken gave you. You were hallucinating. I called Shel, he called the EMTs, and they brought you here. Shel only left a few minutes ago, when he was sure you were going to be all right."

Her voice was steady, but the hand that reached out for Danny's was shaking. She could still hear his screams, his broken pleading with her to not be dead. He pulled her down onto the bed and wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I kept seeing you dead. Over and over. Every body I went to process. Every way I've seen someone die. Every one was you."

"I'm fine. Danny, we're fine. Everything is okay now. We're going to be okay." Lindsay relaxed into his embrace, her heart breaking at the anguish in his voice.

"I could taste it. It was everywhere. So much blood, Lindsay." He stopped talking when he saw her eyes go blank and cursed himself for letting his nightmares touch her. Stella had walked out of the room when Lindsay came in, so they were alone, for the first time in what seemed like a very long time. He smoothed his hand over her riot of curls and pushed them away from her face to kiss her. "It doesn't matter. Don't listen to me."

Lindsay cupped his face in her hands. "Don't. Don't shut me out, Danny. I can listen. If it hurts you, it hurts me. I don't need you to protect me; I need you to trust me."

Danny mimicked her movement, using the right hand with its stiff cast carefully. "Same goes, then. Trust me, Lindsay. Tell me how you're feeling, what you want to do. You don't need to do this alone. I can't do this alone."

She leaned down and kissed him gently once on one corner of his mouth, then the other. "I promise," she breathed, then kissed him properly, not gently at all.

Stella was standing outside the door, and turned to the doctor with a laugh in her eyes. "I think we'll just get the paperwork done on the release here, okay, Doctor? They definitely need to go home. I don't think the phrase 'get a room' applies to a hospital!"

By the time they were back in their apartment, Danny was shaking with fatigue. Lindsay helped him to the bedroom, and offered to make him something to eat. He shook his head and silently reached his hand out to her, pulling her down on the bed beside him, moving until they were comfortably wrapped in each other. She dropped her head onto his shoulder and sighed in relief.

Danny closed his eyes and took in a deep breath of her unique scent, felt the warmth of her body against his. He could remember every one of his dreams: every single way he saw her die. He knew it would take a lifetime to let the images go. He prayed to a god he didn't know he believed in that those images would serve as a warning to him to never take what he had in his arms right now for granted.

Lindsay could feel the tension drain out of Danny as he fell asleep. She smiled and curled closer, closing her eyes as well. Sleep sounded like a good plan.

It was hours later when she woke to find Danny staring at her. "Are you hungry?" She started to ask, but his mouth came over hers with such urgency she felt her toes curl.

"Yes." The answer was a whisper of longing. His mouth ventured lower, to her neck, the curve of her breasts. His hands began to wander, caressing her, leaving trails of energy, like electric sparks, across her skin. With a moan, she raised her face to his, begging for another kiss. He scattered kisses across her face, her throat, pushing her t-shirt off her shoulders and exploring the softness of her skin.

Hands and mouths touched, explored, tasted. It was slow and urgent: a renewal of promises and commitment. When they finally joined, the world stopped, a moment caught in amber and forever preserved. Danny felt as if he was still pumped full of morphine: every sense was on full alert. Sound, touch, taste, sight were mixed into one glorious sensation which carried him miles from New York.

When she rose above him, a star in the heavens, he thought for a moment that he was looking down on the earth, and when he fell, it was a plunge from outer space into Lindsay's arms, and he was home.


	43. Chapter 43: Special Delivery

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Chapter 43: Special Delivery

Stella had never been known for her even-tempered ways. In fact, jokes about her temper were staple fare in the lab. As her pregnancy progressed, her temper grew in proportion to the size of her stomach, which was impressive by the eighth month. She had been put on desk duty at seven months, which had driven her nuts, and her maternity leave was due to start in a few days. She was tired, clumsy, and had to go to the bathroom every ten minutes.

"Lindsay! Lindsay, where the hell are my files? I put them down right here not five seconds ago. And why don't I have the updates on the Chavez case? I asked for them this morning."

Lindsay came over to Stella's desk, moved a few things around and found both the missing files and the Chavez updates, sliding them in front of Stella, then backing out of the way slowly. She had been humming a minute ago, a merry little tune, but she stopped when Stella yelled.

Stella looked down at the files and sniffed. A tear rolled down her cheek. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be a bitch. My back hurts, and my stomach hurts, and I can't see my feet. It makes me crabby."

Lindsay laughed at the woebegone face in front of her. "Well, your feet are still there – cute shoes, by the way – and everything looks fine. Three more days and you can sit at home eating bonbons and watching soaps until the baby comes."

Stella grimaced, "Are you trying to make me feel worse? What am I going to do sitting at home?"

"Rest," Lindsay advised. "Get what you can now; you won't get any for a while."

"People keep saying that. Why do people keep saying that? And then they tell you all the horror stories they can come up with: birthing horror stories; sleeping horror stories; never sleeping horror stories. How am I supposed to have this baby when I'm already blaming it for keeping me up nights in 15 years when it's a teenager?" Stella looked at Lindsay, her eyes narrowed. "And what were you humming? You're suspiciously cheerful all of a sudden."

Lindsay smiled, but answered innocently, "Humming? Was I humming?"

Stella thought back. "You were humming 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas'. Weren't you? Why are you singing Christmas Carols in April? Shouldn't you be singing Easter carols?"

"There are Easter carols?" Lindsay teased back, watching Stella struggle to her feet for the tenth time in the past hour.

Stella blew out a frustrated breath. No matter how many times she had gone today, she never felt … emptied was the only word she could think of.

Once she was standing, though, she felt a sort of release, the kind of feeling that should have a "ping" sound attached, and suddenly the floor was covered with warm fluid.

"Lindsay?" Stella's voice was pitched a little high.

Lindsay turned around from the file she had been examining and stared at Stella's white face, then down at the floor. "Oh God, Stel."

"My water broke. I can't believe this. It's too early. Oh God." She felt the first contraction begin to ripple through her, and realized that she had been feeling some pangs all day. They didn't match the agony other women had told her about, and it was far too early anyway, so she had ignored it. With blood and amniotic fluid running down her legs and soaking her cute shoes, she had to admit it was not the best decision she could have made.

"Go find Don. I think he's in a meeting with Mac," Stella said through clenched teeth. Although the pain wasn't bad yet, the embarrassment was agonizing.

Lindsay took off at a run, and burst into Mac's office without ceremony. "Don, Stella's water broke. You have to come now." Mac, Danny, and Sheldon all turned shocked faces to her, but Don simply nodded and leaped to his feet.

"I had a feeling," he said to the men in general, and followed Lindsay to the office she and Stella had been in. By the time they got there, Stella was breathing through a contraction which was beginning to feel a little more like the descriptions she had heard. "How far apart are they, sweetheart?"

She looked at him with a hint of panic. "Just over three minutes," she admitted quietly.

Mac stepped into the office. "Three minutes? At rush hour? You'll never get her to the hospital in time, Don. Come on, Stella. Let's go downstairs. Sheldon, how long ago was your obstetrics residency?"

"Long enough, but it's like a bicycle. Hey Stel, if a cabbie can deliver a baby, so can I!" Hawkes stood on one side of her, while Don stood on the other as she breathed through a contraction.

"I AM NOT HAVING MY BABY IN A MORGUE!" Stella finally caught enough breath to say at the top of her lungs.

"Naw, of course you're not, darling. We wouldn't think of it. We're just going to go downstairs so that Shel can take a look until the EMTs get here, okay?" Don's voice was soothing, and he rubbed Stella's back comfortingly as they walked slowly down the hall. When she slapped at his hand, he knew this baby was definitely going to be born in a morgue.

"She's in transition already," he said quietly to Danny and Lindsay who were following the procession. "Danny," handing over his keys, "Could you go get her bag from the car? Lindsay, she's going to need you, I think." Aside from a slightly stunned look in his eyes, Don was his usual organized self as he planned for Operation Baby.

By the time they had walked down the stairs to the lowest floor, Stella stopping every few minutes to breathe through another contraction or yell at someone who annoyed her, Danny had caught up with them with the bag Stella had packed for the hospital a month ago. He handed it to Don, and stood, a little helplessly as Stella held on to a banister and breathed through another contraction. "Why are we walking?" He asked Lindsay quietly. "Shouldn't she be lying down somewhere?" He shot the panting Stella a worried look.

"No, she needs to stay on her feet as long as possible. This baby seems to be in a bit of a hurry; if she lies down now it would only slow things up."

Lindsay was calm; not only had she been involved in three home deliveries for various sisters-in-law, she had been reading up on things recently.

Don nodded, "Why don't you go ahead and get things ready, Danny? Mac? Sid might need some warning. Hawkes, is there anything you need?"

Stella's contraction had finished, leaving her enough breath to say again, "I will be damned if I am going to spread my legs in front of every man I work with. Don," her hand on his arm was strong enough to cause him a wince, "Make them all go away."

Don nodded placatingly again, "It's okay, sweetheart. Just let them get set up; then we'll kick them all out, I promise."

Slowly they walked down the hallway, Stella rubbing her belly, and grumbling. Then she hunched over in pain again. Lindsay checked her watch: just under three minutes apart.

"God, this is like some cheap sitcom!" Stella groaned. "Babies don't happen like this. They come in hospitals, with doctors. They come with nurses and ice chips. They come with drugs. LOTS of drugs!"

"It came without packages, ribbons, and bags," Lindsay murmured irrepressibly in her best "Grinch" voice, then mouthed an apology when Stella glared at her.

Don hid a grin, and waited for Stella to begin moving again. "Sid may be able to find you some drugs, honey. Let's just keep moving this way, okay?"

By the time they got to the examination room, Danny and Mac had scoured the morgue for blankets, towels, pillows, anything which could make Stella more comfortable and a little less aware that she was lying on a slab. Sid was grinning like a maniac at the idea of delivering a baby; Hawkes was scrubbed, gowned, and as calm as if he did this every day.

Mac said, "I called the EMTs back, Don. There's a major accident just off the bridge: a six car pile-up with multiple injuries. They're putting us in queue, but it could take a couple of hours."

Sid added, "When we told them where we were, they just laughed and told us to take care of it ourselves."

Stella began to growl, and all the men jumped. "I am NOT having my baby…" she stopped and began to breathe deeply through a contraction, holding up one hand to keep anyone from speaking until she was finished. It took about 45 seconds before her voice started again, "In a fucking MORGUE. No offense, Sid."

"None taken, beautiful." Sid smiled, then gestured to Danny and Mac to lift her onto the examining table. "Now, gentlemen, you all need to scrub and gown up. You too, Lindsay. We may not be able to provide all the appropriate accoutrements for an accouchement, but I can at least make sure you are all sterile."

"Don," Stella said with a hint of panic, "don't leave me."

Don hesitated, but Shel gave him a gentle push towards the door as he walked over to Stella with a sheet. "Here, Stella. We'll just drape you so I can do a vaginal exam." He waited until the men were out of the room, then did a thorough examination. "Okay, Stella, you're very nearly fully dilated. You seem to be moving very fast, so we are going to get ready for delivery, okay?"

"Where's Don?" Stella said; her breathing tripped as she lost the rhythm.

"Here he is, Stella. Right here," Lindsay pushed Don back into the room, leaving Danny and Mac scrubbed and gowned, but standing hesitantly by the door. "Don, your only job right now is to remind Stella to breathe. Do you remember the breathing pattern from classes?" Lindsay knew that Don and Stella had been going to natural childbirth classes for the past two months, although they had naturally expected to have a few more weeks to prepare.

Don nodded, his face a little pale, but determined. He stood beside Stella and took her hands in his. "Okay, sweetheart. Are you having a contraction now?"

Stella whimpered a little, "I want to push. Should I want to push, Linds?"

"Breathe through it, Stella. You're not quite ready yet. We want to give your body time to adjust." Lindsay was calm and spoke quietly. "Danny, Mac, maybe Stella would prefer...?"

"No, let them stay," Stella said suddenly. She didn't know why she'd changed her mind, and didn't have time to work it out now, but it felt right to have the team here together. No, she corrected the thought, her family here together. She gripped Don's hand tightly as another contraction rippled through her.

"Okay. Danny, Mac, come behind her. You're going to support her when she starts to push." Lindsay grinned at Danny's panicked look. "You just need to be there, Danny. I don't want her falling off the table."

Time telescoped. No one paid attention to the clock except for Sid, whose professional habit was to check every five minutes for recording purposes. If asked, he could have given a thorough report of every step in Stella's birthing process, every physical change. No one thought to ask.

Sheldon was monitoring the progress in a more direct way, "Stella, the baby is crowning. You're probably going to feel a burning sensation; keep breathing through the pain, darling, and relax as much as possible."

Sid suddenly took Don's place beside Stella and gently pushed Don to the end of the bed. "You should be there, Detective. Your baby is about to be born. Keep breathing, Stella."

Danny and Mac were behind her, supporting her back, encouraging her in their own ways, Danny by whispering a continual stream of words, Mac by saying nothing, just being a solid and comforting presence. Lindsay seemed to be everywhere at once, monitoring, reassuring, getting towels and blankets ready.

Sheldon was talking her through it, "Okay, Stella, breathe with the sensation. When you feel the urge to push, breathe in and go for it!"

Stella relaxed as much as she could, and when her body said it was time, she pushed. Once, twice, three times, she pushed. Don's eyes were so wide she thought she could almost see her baby in them.

"Push, Stella! Hold your breath, and push!" Lindsay cried.

"Stella, there she is! There's the head," he breathed out in awe.

Quickly Sheldon cleared the baby's airway and stood back. "Well, Dad, the next step is yours, I think."

There were only seven people in the room. It should not have been possible for one tiny baby and one short story to become so big. But the story was told and re-told, and grew with each telling, until it became legend:

- How a 5lb, 12 oz. baby was born four weeks early in the City Morgue;

- How, in a river of blood, shit, and water, she slipped out of her roaring mother into the capable, waiting hands of her father;

- How the tiny gray-blue rubbery thing took breath when her father touched her, and flushed sunrise pink as oxygen filled her lungs for the first time;

- How the room erupted in cheers and tears and hugs and kisses as that first cry pierced the room;

- How her _koumbaros_, her godfather, Mac Taylor, with tear-streaked cheeks, tied off her umbilical cord with proper sutures provided by Dr. Sid Hammerback, and not a shoelace as rumour said;

- How her father cut the cord which had nurtured and connected her to her now sobbing, laughing mother for nine long months, and in so doing, connected her for life to the people in the room: that strange and varied team she would learn to call family;

- How Dr. Sid, with rare delicacy, delivered the placenta, and spent more time examining that miraculous organ than he did the tiny miracle he had been involved with delivering.

Little Star Linn Bonasera Flack, after that first cry, had been nearly silent, watching the people in the room with large, slightly puzzled eyes. When her father laid her in her mother's arms to suckle for the first time, she stared into Stella's green eyes and seemed to say, with a deep relieved sigh, "You. I know you."


	44. Chapter 44: Epilogue

**Koumbaros and Koufettas**

Epilogue

In every ending is a beginning, and in every beginning a new story grows.

In Stella's hospital room, Lindsay sat in a rocking chair, crooning a quiet song to her namesake in her arms, marvelling at her tiny fingers and long eyelashes.

Danny came in with armloads of flowers and balloons for mother and baby. Don was sitting at the foot of Stella's bed. Danny kissed Stella on the cheek, and handed her a bouquet of roses. He tied one of the balloon bouquets on the headboard of her hospital bed, then he leaned over to kiss Flack on the cheek as well, handing him a single pink balloon. With a growl, Flack swatted him in the head, which Danny ducked.

He squatted down beside his wife, his heart aching at the sight of her cuddling the baby. She looked at him and whispered, "Isn't she the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?"

He nodded because she expected it, but privately he thought Lindsay was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her eyes were shining and she seemed, finally, to be at peace.

Lindsay stood up and urged him to take her place in the rocking chair. As she placed the sleeping baby in his arms, she intoned the 'passing-over-the-baby' mantra of all women: "Be careful of her head."

Danny sat and stared at the tiny thing, almost afraid to breathe. "It's hard to believe we were ever this small." he said in awe. Lindsay pulled over a chair and sat beside him, putting out a hand to gently touch the baby's soft dark hair.

"You'll have to practice, you know." She said it so softly that Don and Stella, cuddled up on the bed only a few feet away, did not hear her.

Danny looked at his wife, whose bright Montana smile was blinding, and had to swallow, hard. "Are you sure?"

Lindsay nodded, eyes shining and a little teary, and whispered, "How would you like to be a daddy for Christmas?"

Danny leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips, then said, "Hey, Flack? Could you come here a second?"

"Something wrong?" Don leapt up, and took his daughter carefully from Danny, looking quizzically at him.

Danny had eyes for no one but Lindsay. He stood up, wrapped his arms around his wife, and swung her around, kissing her through laughing tears.

And a new story was born.

_A/N: Koumbaros is the Greek word for godfather, a very important role in the Orthodox Church. Koufetta are the sugared bitter almonds given out at a Greek wedding, signifying both the happiness and the sorrow of married life. According to several websites (I research – it's a curse) there are no vows given in an Orthodox wedding. It is accepted that the marriage is a love match, and promises are superfluous. That's a lovely thought._

_Stella and Don were married in the Catholic Church (have you ever noticed that nearly every TV wedding is Catholic?), but Stella and Lindsay added some Greek touches to the celebration. _

_Special thanks go to the following people:_

_Chocobetty, for all her messages of encouragement and correction_

_Mystik225, The Little Corinthian, melissouza, mabelreid, Prefect Rachel, mercy4vr, caitgab13, and others who all asked questions, sent messages, even bribed me to keep going. _

_Brilliantly confused, who posted 25 chapter-reviews at one go! _

_lagentillefan, Pepite, mysparkles, chili-peppers, PrettyEyes72, BlueHaven4220, wolviesgirl, and the many others who reviewed so many of the chapters – you guys are all great!_


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